


A Jersey

by tealitful



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Quidditch Player Draco Malfoy, Single Parent Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealitful/pseuds/tealitful
Summary: All she wanted was a jersey and a little revenge. Rated T for tubular.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 277
Kudos: 840





	1. Chapter 1

“I want revenge.”

“Here here, sister! But how do you plan on getting it?” Ginny asked before shoving a fork full of eggs and something or other into her mouth. She had been trying to get Hermione to vent for almost a month, and she wasn’t going to let a little thing like brunch get in the way of it.

Hermione stacked her empty bowl on top of her empty plate and threw the shredded remnants of straw wrapping into the dish. It was such a simple thing, but it was so organized. Her life had been simple and organized before Ron had destroyed that.

“I don’t know. How do you get revenge on the man you imagined spending your life with before he bloody ruined everything by cheating on you?”

A couple of seconds passed with nothing but the sound of coffee spoons hitting the sides of cups and the innate chatter of strangers ‘catching up’ to be heard. Ginny took another bite or two of her… was it an omelette? Hermione thought it was probably an omelette. She hadn’t been there when Ginny ordered, though, and this was a rather uppity breakfast place so she couldn’t be sure.

“You could date someone way better than him. That’s a win-win for you, hun! Someone who makes Ron realize you aren’t hung up on him who also helps you move on,” Ginny said. She scrapped at the practically nonexistent bits on her plate.

Hermione shook her head.

Ginny sighed. “We could kill him?”

“Ginevra!” Even if Hermione knew it was only a joke, an eavesdropper could quote it as anything but. If there was anything Hermione had learned in the years since the war it was that there was always someone willing to say anything for their fifteen minutes of fame and a reporter willing to believe them.

Ginny didn’t care.

“I’m just saying, I have a bunch of brothers. No one’s going to care if one goes missing.”

Hermione threw her napkin (folded neatly into a small triangle) at Ginny. “I don’t want to physically maim anyone,” Ginny made a disappointed grunt. Hermione swirled her coffee mug (in a dignified manner cultivated from her brief stint in divination class) so that the tiny bit of coffee that remained reacquainted itself with the creamer that had settled at the bottom.

“But mental maiming is fine, yeah?”

“Maybe not maiming, but,” Hermione drank the last of her lukewarm coffee with a grimace as she thought of how to phrase her next words, “I wouldn’t mind giving Ron a good upset. Merlin knows he’s easy enough to anger, but I want him to really hurt, you know. I want him to feel like he’s been betrayed, you know?”

Hermione didn’t bother asking if that made her an awful person. She knew it didn’t. Perhaps there were people much better than her that could let it go, but she felt almost certain that it was more common to want some form of revenge. It’s not like she wanted someone to die or anything. She just wanted him to feel as upset and betrayed as she had when she walked into their shared bedroom after a long day at work to see the bare tits of his reverse cow girled tart. Maybe then he wouldn’t hurt someone else.

Ginny, still eating (as she always seemed to be during quidditch season), nodded in understanding. Being her brother didn’t me she was automatically on his side, as she’d stressed several times to Hermione.

“You know, the last time I saw Ron feel like that was when the Chudley Cannons rejected him and recruited Malfoy. He swore up and down it was Malfoy’s fault somehow.”

Hermione laughed. She remembered that day. She’d come home to a pile of orange sports paraphernalia in the center of the living room that Ron was determined had to burn. Malfoy had made the team as the seeker and Ron had been rejected as keeper, but somehow Ron had reasoned Malfoy had stolen his spot. To be rejected by a team you’d loved since infancy was one thing, but to see your childhood nemesis on the team was another. Hermione almost felt bad for him then. Now she was glad she didn’t.

“You’re all still going to Chudley Cannons versus Pride of Portsmouth game on Saturday, yeah?”

Ginny nodded, finally pushing her empty plate away. “Yes, and you are too.”

“Ginny-”

“No, Hermione, you are! You broke up with one Weasley, not all of us. You’re breaking my mother’s heart, you know.”

Ah, sweet guilt: a Weasley’s favorite bargaining tool.

“It just doesn’t feel right, Gin. It’s one thing to stop by the Burrow when I know Ron won't be there, but it’s another to show up to his family outing where I know he’ll be.”

Ginny sighed. They’d have this conversation before, and she was getting sick of it. “What are we to you, then? Aren’t we family? After everything we’ve been through, we’re family. You’ll go with us to the match. We can even get you some ugly orange shirt to make Ron mad.”

Hermione couldn’t help but marvel at Ginny’s ability to put things in a way that left no room for argument or compromise. The waiter refilled their coffee cups and Hermione added her cream and sugars. She ran through all of her excuses, but she knew none of them would work. She’d have to give in. She’d wanted the next time she met Ron to be just vengeful enough for closure, but she supposed supporting the Cannons would have to do.

“Might as well shove me in a Cannon’s jersey with Malfoy’s name across the back. If you’re going to make me sit with my ex and watch a sport I don’t even like, you might as well make the torture complete.”

Ginny sat up a little straighter. “Well, there’s an idea.”

Hermione nearly choked on her coffee. That was a dangerous look. “An idea, yes, but let’s not get carried away here.”

“I’m just saying that if you really want to do revenge the boring-”

“Non-violent.”

“way, then you might as well take what we know upsets him and use it against him. Malfoy and the Chudley Cannons: throw them in a cauldron and you get the perfect potion for an angry Ronald.”

“But is it worth sacrificing my pride?” Hermione asked. Was it worth all the stories that would come out in the papers when they saw a war heroine with the name of her enemy stitched across her shoulders?

Not to mention Malfoy himself. They’d managed a civil final year at Hogwarts together, but they’d only ever met in passing with some friendly, light bickering since. Still, each meeting had reassured Hermione that while he might have grown out of his awful prejudices, he’d not grown out of his ego. Perhaps it was because he’d been prepped for discrimination from age 3 or 4, but he’d been pampered since birth.

“You can sacrifice your pride for, at most, a month’s backlash in some trash reporting and experience the sweet taste of revenge on your tongue, or you can maintain your pride and continue to taste only the boring state of discontent that you’ll be experiencing for at least another year. The choice is yours.”

Hermione paid the check.

\---

“They’re out?”

“They’re out.”

“How are they out?”

“Malfoy’s a popular player.”

Hermione what sure if she should laugh or gag at that. She thought she might have done both. “Malfoy’s popular with people outside of his limited social circle?”

“We’re not in school anymore,” Ginny said, “And Malfoy is a hot and – and please don’t ever tell anyone I said this – a good seeker. The perfect mix of ingredients for a fanbase.”

“So you’re fine with me telling people you find Malfoy attractive so long as I don’t mention that you – a quidditch player – believe that he – also a quidditch player – is good at his chosen profession?”

“Hey, when’s the last time you saw Malfoy?”

“I don’t know. Some charity event about half a year ago, probably. Does it matter?”

Ginny took Hermione’s arm and led her out of the store. “Did you talk?”

“No? Malfoy and I aren’t exactly friends.”

“So you probably weren’t standing very close to him?”

“You’re coming off a bit like a blunt quill, Gin.”

“What?”

“No point, and kind of making a mess of things.”

Ginny pinched Hermione’s upper arm. When Hermione had stopped swearing off the pain, Ginny went on. “Well if you weren’t very near him, you wouldn’t be able to see just how much he’s changed since school.”

Hermione had seen his photograph plenty in the Daily Prophet, so she felt she knew well enough how he’d changed. Hell, she’d seen so many posters in the quidditch shop just a moment ago, she could probably draw an excellent likeness of him. If she could draw, that is. “Sure Gin. Fair enough.”

Ginny smiled again; the same dangerous smile she’d had at the cafe. Her hands tightened around Hermione’s arm in a vice, and Hermione was afraid she was going to be pinched again. “I’ve just had an excellent idea, though. A two birds with one stone type of idea. You love those. Very efficient.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “You know I don’t agree to vague ideas, Ginny.”

“Well,” Ginny started, pulling Hermione in the direction of an apparition point, “we can get you a Malfoy jersey to make Ron mad, and you can see for yourself that Malfoy is hot and I’m not crazy. Oh, and I can smack talk him before our game next month. Three birds one stone, Hermione! That’s even more efficient than two!”

It took Hermione a minute to process. “You’re not suggesting I get a Malfoy jersey from Malfoy?”

“Well we know he’s certainly not out of them, now is he?”

“Ginny-” before Hermione could object, Ginny wrapped her arm around Hermione’s waist and side-alonged them both to an apparition point just outside the garish orange stadium of the Chudley Cannons.

Ginny pulled Hermione towards the security guard sitting by the entrance.

“Miss Weasley! Come to start a fight with Chang again?”

Ginny laughed. “No, that can wait until next month. I wouldn’t mind a little bit of trash talking, though.”

“Wait, Cho Chang? Why would you be fighting with Cho?” Hermione felt like she was starting a tv show in the middle of the season.

“Just some good, clean trash talking between chasers,” Ginny said. “Very professional.”

“I thought Cho was a seeker, though.”

“There’s only one seeker and one alternate seeker per team. Spots are hard to come by, so a lot of school seekers end up switching positions if they can’t find a seeker position but still want to play professionally. Cho is actually the Cannons’ alternate seeker as well as a chaser.”

“Oh.” Hermione didn’t really know what else to say. She didn’t really care about the logistics of quidditch and team politics.

Ginny turned her attention back to the security guard, “Chuck, could you get Malfoy to come out here for just a minute? Tell him Hermione needs to speak with him about something.”

Somehow Hermione didn’t think that the prospect of talking to her would really motivate Malfoy, but Chuck seemed to think otherwise and turned to send off a patronus message (which Hermione thought was overkill, but Ginny explained as ‘sending a message while maintaining his post’).

Nearly 10 minutes later, Hermione was ready to leave. Malfoy clearly wasn’t coming out. She couldn’t blame him, either. They weren’t friends, so what could she need from him. Hell, he might just think it was a prank. She was just about to tell Ginny as much, when he appeared and proved her wrong.

And he proved Ginny right. Very right.

Hermione swallowed the lump that was growing in her throat. “Malfoy, thank you for meeting with us.”

Ginny rolled her eyes at the formal tone, and Malfoy smirked. “What is this, a sponsorship meeting? You’re speaking much to formal for someone who just pulled me out of practice without notice.”

Hermione had the decency to blush where Ginny didn’t. “Malfoy, Hermione needs your jersey.”

“Ginny! You can’t just lead with that!”

“My jersey?”

Ginny sighed, “Hermione, I somehow don’t think Malfoy would believe you and I came to exchange pleasantries. Best get to the point. He has practice to get back to. Not that his team stands a chance against the Harpies, but they can at least make an effort against Pride of Portree, eh?”

“Well, I don’t suppose insulting his team will do me any good either!”

“I see Granger is still the brains of the operation, then,” Malfoy said, looking between the two girls with impassive amusement. He seemed lighter, somehow.

I suppose, Hermione thought, having the burden of enforced limited perspective lifted would do that do a man.

“She needs your jersey to piss Ron off,” Ginny said. Hermione gave up trying to stop her. Ginny was clearly in a mood today, and she would have what she wanted one way or another.

Malfoy quirked his head to the side, and he turned his gaze toward Hermione. His lips were pressed together lightly, in a thinly veiled effort not to laugh. “Granger, I might not need all the pleasantries, but I could use a bit more detail than what Weasley is giving me.”

Hermione tried to be as succinct as she could. “Ronald cheated on me. We broke up. I want to make him feel as shitty as he made me feel without physical maiming and without sinking to his level of debauchery. He hates you, and he’s not well pleased with the Cannons. The Weasley clan and some of us others are all getting together to watch Chudley versus Portree on Saturday.”

“Combine two of his childish hatreds into one afternoon and you’ve got yourself a good girl’s revenge,” Malfoy said. “Much too nice for my taste, but fitting for you.”

“And listen, I’d have just bought your jersey, but apparently people like you and it was sold out at Quality Quidditch. So can I just buy one of your jerseys off you or something?” She was embarrassed, and she really just wanted this interaction to be over.

Malfoy made an exaggerated show of contemplating her offer, complete with worrying his clean-shaven chin. Still took pleasure in having something to hold over someone else, then. Some things never changed.

Then something in his eyes shifted, like he’d gotten an idea. His tone was still light, but he addressed her sincerely. “I’ll make you a deal, Granger, and please know that I cannot believe I’m asking this either.”

Uh oh. Hermione looked to Ginny for her opinion on whatever was about to happen, but she just shrugged and motioned for Malfoy to go on.

“Watch my son during the game.” Oh. “Tell the Weasleys that you and I are friends, or something, and just keep him with you for the game. I’ll get him as soon as the game ends, I swear.” Malfoy was speaking a little fast, and he passed his hands through his hair once… twice in a nervous tick. He was composed to anyone who wasn’t looking closely, but to Hermione he was clearly a bit desperate.

“Who normally watches him during a game?” Hermione asked. It seemed a bit odd that he wouldn’t have a regular nanny to watch him.

Malfoy sighed and his shoulders slumped. “My mum, normally, but she’s got a charity event she’s planning with the ladies auxiliary. Then Theo would normally step up, but he’s finally landed a date with some bint he’s been mooning over the past half a year. Neither Blaise nor Pansy is responsible enough to look after themselves, let alone a child. The few others I’d trust play on the team, so they obviously can’t.”

“But you’d trust me, your schoolyard nemesis, to look after your child,” Hermione asked, incredulous. She sympathized with his lacking a babysitter, but surely there were better options than her.

Malfoy smiled. “You’ve gone out of your way to find the most docile yet effective mode of revenge for your bastard ex because you’re still worried about doing anything morally wrong to him. I think I can trust you to do right by an innocent child.”

Hermione blushed. She was used to being called a goody two shoes, but the way Malfoy put it was almost nice. And she liked children, not that many of her friends knew it. Whenever there was a Granger family reunion, she could always be found dallying about with the kids. They always wanted to know what the big words she used meant, and they loved it when she’d read them stories. But surely a tiny Malfoy would be different. “I wouldn’t mind watching him, but I don’t know how well the Weasley would take to me watching your son, even if I told them you and I were friends. While I know they wouldn’t hurt a child, I certainly don’t want them saying anything about you to him.”

Ginny had been watching their back and forth like it was a tennis match (tennis: muggle game Harry had explained to her when she’d stumbled across it on the muggle telly back when they were dating). She figured this was her chance to step in as the empire – no, umpire! Emperor? Was it? Whatever. “The only person in my family who would have the gall to talk poorly about a parent to his child would be Ron, and even a child couldn’t take him seriously.”

“Granger, you want to make a splash with Weasley anyway. Pretending we’re close enough that you watch my kid will only add to the fire. I trust you’ll keep Scorp safe. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I thought you’d even entertain the idea of putting him in danger.”

That was true. Even as he continued to argue the idea with her, Draco wondered at his trust in her. If anyone had a right to hate all Malfoys, Granger was it. She was working her way through the ministry ranks through charity and social reform. Even as an adult, she couldn’t resist helping someone out. She wouldn’t let anything happen to Scorp, and he’d be able to take down Portree’s bitch of a seeker down a peg or two in the game while Granger and his son bonded over some nursery rhymes.

Oh! Well, wasn’t that a notion.

Malfoy started again, “Granger, you don’t like quidditch, correct?”

“Absolutely.”

Malfoy stopped himself from rolling his eyes (Ginny did not). “So use my son as a distraction then.”

“That’s an awful way to look at babysitting, Malfoy!”

“Read him some books or something! My kid loves stories. Of course, I don’t imagine you’re quite as fond of Hera the Hippogriff books as he is. Still, he’ll listen to you read anything if you read it in a tone that makes it sound interesting.”

Ginny actually saw the resistance in Hermione’s eyes crumbling. All she had to do was read to a little boy who would find anything she’d say fascinating. This was a much better fate than feeling isolated among the quidditch-loving family of her ex-boyfriend.

“Fine,” Hermione said, willing herself to sound reluctant. “I need the jersey, today though.”

“Don’t trust me?”

Hermione simply raised an eyebrow in challenge, something she deeply regretted when she saw Malfoy lift his arms and pull the jersey off. Holy abs, did she hate when Ginny was right about things. He cast a quick cleaning charm before tossing the jersey to her. By some miracle, she caught it.

“You know, you could have owled it to me. You still have practice don’t you?”

Malfoy shrugged and smirked. “It’s hot enough out that no one will question me playing without. Our practice jerseys haven’t got any padding or cushioning charms, so it really wont make a difference either way.”

Hermione thought she might mention how likely he was to burn his perfect pale complexion – she could certainly feel the sun heating her cheeks – but she thought better of it. No need to stretch this out any longer. “I’ll owl you my address and you can drop – Scorp you said? - you can drop him off with me before you head to the stadium to do whatever it is athletes do before they play.”

Malfoy smiled and his eyes softened. “Thanks Granger. I promise you he’ll be on his best behavior.”

Hermione acknowledged his words with a nod before wrapping her arm around Ginny’s shoulders and apparating away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all doing well in these unprecedented times.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please have chapter 2 as an apology for forgetting to list this as a multichapter fic!

In the time between agreeing to this scheme and date of the game in question, Hermione wrote out 5 letters to Malfoy canceling. Of course, she didn’t send them. Her pride wouldn’t let her renege on her promise to watch Malfoy’s son. Honestly, she found herself focusing more on what she could do to entertain a 4 year old for several hours and less on what Ron would think. 

She’d told Harry a diluted version of events: that she and Malfoy had, at some point, come to be civil acquaintances and that she was watching his son during the game. If Harry wasn’t buying it, he’d had the decency to not say so out loud. He simply hmm-ed before asking if he should bring Teddy. “They are technically family, you know, and nothing entertains a kid like another kid. Teddy is only a couple of years older, so It should be fine.” 

Oh, bless Harry! Hermione had readily agreed. 

And then it was the day of the game. Hermione stared at the jersey where it was laid out on her bed, blinding orange with a white 9 on the center. MALFOY was printed across the shoulders. Well, at least it wasn’t visible from the front. She finally pulled it over her head when the much anticipated (dreaded?) knock finally sounded at the door. 

For a brief second before opening the door, she wondered if Malfoy had ever deigned to enter an apartment complex before. He and all his friends had ancestral homes, after all, and picturing any of them in a small apartment was almost funny. When she opened the door, however, he seemed comfortable enough leaning against her doorframe. He smiled at her and Hermione smiled back briefly before shifting her gaze to the little boy holding his father’s hand and staring up at her. 

The blond hair, sharp features, and fair complexion were undeniably Malfoy. Were it not for his startlingly green eyes, Hermione would have thought she was looking at a young Draco Malfoy. She crouched in front of him and stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. My name is Hermione Granger. You can just call me Hermione, or Mione if you please.” 

His small face split into a grin, and he stood a little taller. He clearly liked being treated like an adult. He let go of his father’s hand and shook hers. “My name is Scorpius Malfoy. You can call me Scorp or Scor without the p sound. We’re wearing the same shirt,” He tugged a bit of the fabric of his child-size jersey before letting it drop. “My dad says you like to read. Can you read to me during the boring bits of the game?” He glanced over her shoulder. “What’s that?” 

She looked over her shoulder at her TV. “Well, that’s the telly. It’s a muggle invention that lets you watch things.” 

“What things?” 

“Like plays,” she said, having found in the past that it was the easiest way to explain the purpose of a TV to those raised without them. 

“You can watch a play without leaving home?” (Draco) Malfoy asked. His wide-eyed stare nearly matched his son’s. 

She stood back up, then. “When do you need to be at the stadium?” 

“An hour. I wanted to make sure I had enough time to see Scor settled in case he decided to be difficult.” 

She nodded and then motioned the boys in, closing the door behind them and then motioning for them to sit on the sofa. She grabbed the remote from the coffee table, pointed it at the TV, and hit the power button. Her eyes remained trained on the both of them. She loved watching the absolute confusion and awe that flooded every magically raised person’s face as the pictures flickered across the screen _with sound_. She knew she would never be able to experience “On Moonlight Bay” in the same way they were at that moment. 

They sat in silence for a minute before Draco finally asked, “How long do the pictures keep moving? When do they start over?” 

“Well,” it never really got easier to explain this bit, “it’s going to keep going until there’s an advertisement or the film ends.” 

“Film?” that was Scorp. 

“Remember, I said you can watch things like a play? Well, films are like that. Those are actors. They take long pictures, which is called filming, and then they cut it all together to make a film. Does that make sense?” 

The Malfoys had some tell-tale wrinkles between their brows that clearly said “No, you mad woman, that did not make sense” but they both nodded as if they understood. Hermione thought about making another go at an explanation, but Doris Day and Gordon MacRae began to sing and she knew the boys were lost to her. 

This was decidedly not how she’d expected this morning to go. Awkwardness, she’d expected, or an exceedingly bratty child that would remind her of Draco circa their early years at Hogwarts. She waved her wand to set an alarm for a half an hour later to keep Malfoy from being late. She had seen many a witch and wizard forget plans after discovering the wonders of muggle technology. 

Hermione considered flooing Ginny and telling her to come over early to witness this with her, but when she looked at the Malfoys sat on her couch and watching some old musical with rapt interest, she decided she might like to keep the sight for herself. She could always tell Ginny about it later. When the alarm went off Hermione practically had to pull Malfoy from her couch and send him on his way. 

“But I want to know if they get married,” Draco whined. 

Hermione huffed. “I’m sure Scorpius will be happy to tell you how it ends.” 

“But the songs!” 

“Oh, you are going to lose your mind when you learn about CDs.” 

“What?” 

Hermione pushed him out the front door and locked it behind him for good measure. 

And then there were two. 

Hermione half expected little Malfoy to completely freak out when his Dad left, but he simply watched as his father walked (was shoved) out the door, glanced at the newly vacant spot, glanced at Hermione, and then turned back to the TV. 

Hermione puttered about in the kitchen, watching Scorpius from the corner of her eye. Every few minutes he would turn around and look at her before returning to the movie. Hermione wasn’t sure if she should talk to him or not. On one hand, he seemed perfectly happy to watch the movie. On the other hand, they’d have to talk sometime, and if she waited too long it might be difficult to start later. He looked up at her again, and she figured there was no time like the present. 

“Would you like anything to drink, Scorp?” she called from the kitchen. 

“Could I have some tea, please?” 

His little voice was polite but hesitant, and Hermione melted. The poor boy had to be nervous left with a stranger, but he was trying his best not to show it. Hermione smiled and made a little show of filling her bright yellow kettle and setting it on the stovetop. Instead of turning back to the movie, Scorpius continued to watch her as she walked around her kitchen grabbing her pink teapot, some tea bags, and an ugly, barely usable tea cosy she’d made a year prior when Molly’d tried to teach her to knit. 

“You need all that stuff for tea?” 

Hermione popped the last of her tea bags into the pot and poured the boiled water in after. “I suppose most of it could be done with magic.” 

“Then why do you do it that way?” 

Hermione shrugged. “I suppose because that’s how I was taught to do it. Even after I started learning magic, I wasn’t allowed to do magic when I wasn’t at school, so I’ve just always done it the muggle way.” 

She supposed she was probably boring the boy with her rambling, but he didn’t seem annoyed or distracted. In fact, he got up from the couch and walked over to her kitchen and took a seat at her breakfast bar. 

“Would you like something to eat with your tea?” 

He shook his head. “My Dad gave me two galleons to get food at the arena.” 

Hermione smiled at the excited boy as he shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out two shiny coins. “ _Two_ galleons? Well, you’ll have to think about what you want to buy when we get there.” 

“We can share,” he said. “Do you like chicken strips and chips? Dad says I have to eat something like that before I eat any sugar quills. Do you like sugar quills?” 

“I do like sugar quills and chicken strips and chips, as a matter of fact,” Hermione said as she turned to a cupboard, “but I think you should use those galleons on yourself. Thank you, though, for offering. You’re very sweet.” 

The little boy blushed. “We can share the sugar quills. I think my tummy would hurt if I ate a whole box myself.” 

“Alright, that sounds good. Now,” she turned back toward him, the cupboard open behind her, “could you pick out a couple of mugs for us?” 

Hermione pulled a chair from her table and helped Scorpius climb onto it, standing behind him to catch him if he fell. He carefully grabbed a mug with a cow and a calf illustration. Its handle was a cow as well, the front legs being one point of attachment and the back legs being another. It was a funny mug, so she wasn’t surprised he picked it. 

He held the mug with both hands and bent over to carefully set down the mug. When he stood back up, he pointed at the mug and said, “That one’s for me.” 

“Okay. Now can you pick one out for me?” Hermione asked, her head half turned as she heard the floo activate. 

Ginny walked into the kitchen and gave Hermione a tiny wave and watched Scorpius gently place a light yellow mug next to the cow mug. He stood up and pointed to the yellow mug. “That one’s yours.” 

“Oh, thank you! I like that one a lot!” Scorpius turned around to look at her and his smile drooped a little. “Scorp, this is my friend, Ginny. We’re gonna be sitting with her and some of my other friends at the game.” 

Ginny put on her Aunty Gin smile and shook Scorpius quickly proffered hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Scorpius. I’m Ginny Weasley. Are you excited for the game?” 

Scorpius nodded quickly, “My dad plays for the canons. He has a jersey like me and Mione are wearing, see?” 

Scorpius moved closer to Hermione, and she moved closer to the chair to make sure he wouldn’t fall off in his excitement. 

“Wow, you two are a matching pair, aren’t you?” Ginny said, eyes shining with amusement. 

Scorpius gave a toothy smile and Hermione reached out to ruffle his hair. What a sweet boy. It seemed so strange to see such a happy look on the face of a tiny Draco Malfoy. It was heartbreaking to think of how mean of a child Draco had been, but it made Scorpius happy disposition all the more sweet. 

“Scorp, why don’t you pick out a mug for Ginny as well?” 

He spun back around on his perch and picked some mugs up and put them down until he grabbed a mug with a bunch of paintbrushes printed on the mug and fake paint splotches on the inside. Just like with the other two mugs, he took the mug in both of his hands and set it gently on the counter. 

“Very nice!” Ginny said as Hermione helped Scorpius hop off the chair. 

“If you want to go watch the telly, I can bring your tea out to you.” 

“Okay!” He said before rushing to the couch. 

Hermione put a generous amount of milk and sugar into his tea and brought it out to him. He gave her a distracted “thank you” as he took the mug, already engrossed in the whichever old musical was on now. Hermione went back to the kitchen and collapsed in a chair at her table, angling herself so that she could still see Scorpius from where she was sat. 

Ginny slid the cup of tea she’d made for Hermione toward her before taking up her own. “You know, I didn’t think Malfoy would pop his kid in a matching jersey.” 

“Well, it’s his kid. Of course he’s going to want to have his son supporting him.” Hermione hadn’t really considered it either, but it made sense. 

“Yeah,” Ginny said, taking a quick sip of tea before continuing, “but you kinda look like – and don’t freak out! – but you kinda look his mum. Or stepmum, I guess, since everyone knows his mum dipped after the divorce.” 

“Ginny!” Hermione hissed, looking to make sure Scorpius hadn’t heard her. Luckily, Ginny had been speaking quite softly and Scorpius was engrossed in the advertisements on the telly. Still, Hermione wasn’t well pleased Ginny’d brought it up. 

“Well damn, Hermione, I’m just giving you a preview of tomorrow’s papers.” 

“You were the one encouraging me to do this, Ginny! You were the one encouraging this.” 

“Drink your tea, Hermione.” 

“No, I – ” 

Ginny gave her best Mother Molly look that stopped Hermione in her tracks. When the mug was to Hermione’s lips, Ginny spoke up: “Sweetheart, I still think revenge is a good idea. I mean, we knew wearing Malfoy’s jersey would make headlines. It’s just, I’ve been thinking about it, and I realized that this poor kid is gonna get dragged into the headline. I mean, I’ll bet you 5 galleons it’ll be spun as a romantic, found family type article. Still, there will be people who don’t like it, you know… the reformed death eater and the war heroine, I mean.” 

Half of Hermione’s mug was gone by the time Ginny finished speaking. She nodded more to herself than to Ginny. She had been so concerned about being able to take care of Scorpius and protect him from Ron’s inevitable tantrum that she hadn’t even considered how he’d be pulled into the papers. 

She tugged her hands through her curls a few times before signing refilling her mug with what little tea was left in the pot. “Well, there’s nothing to be done now. I said I’ll take to him see his dad play, and I will. I’ll protect him.” 

Ginny nodded. Hermione was, in part, known for her protective streak over those who could not defend themselves. Kids certainly fit in that group. “Well then,” she said, pushing her own empty mug to sit next to the empty teapot, “let’s talk about something else then, shall we? No point worrying about it until it’s happening, eh?” 

And they did. Mostly they talked about their jobs, who Ginny had been seeing recently, and what movie they were going to be seeing on their monthly girls’ date – simple things that didn’t have a lot of substance but that you could talk about for hours. When it was time to go, Hermione called Scorpius back into the kitchen and wet a paper towel to wipe at a splotch of dried tea on his cheek. She couldn’t imagine the ever-immaculate Malfoy would be particularly pleased to see his son anything less than the tidy boy he’d left with her. 

She reached out to take hold of the mug he was holding and gently pulled it from his grasp, setting it by hers and casting a quick tergeo on all the mugs and the pot to get rid of any remaining tea. She turned back to Scorpius who was looking at the mug, disastrously forlorn over relinquishing it as only a child could be when confronted with such a simple thing. 

“I’ll tell you what Scorp,” Hermione said, squatting down to his height, “If your father doesn’t have anything planned for after the game, I’ll see about convincing him to bring you back for another cuppa, how about that?” 

She didn’t know what made her say it. Well, not until Scorpius’ face lit up. That smile would really do a lot of damage when he figured out how to use it to his advantage. Then again, it appeared he already was. “Really?” 

It was Hermione’s turn to nod. “Yes, but if your father already has plans, you have to be a good boy and listen to him without a pout, alright?” 

“But I want to pick out a mug for Dad!” He stomped his foot a little, but he didn’t look like he was going to throw a tantrum. He did, however, look extremely heartbroken. 

“And I’m sure that if he’s got something planned, he and I can work out another time for you come over for tea, eh?” She normally wouldn’t feel comfortable promising a child something without their parent’s express consent, but she had a feeling Malfoy couldn’t deny his son something so simple. If he even tried, she was certain she could lure him in with the promise of a second look at the telly. Scorpius didn’t seem overly pleased at possibly having to wait to use his mug again, but he accepted it and stuck his hand out for her to grab, clearly indicating he was ready to leave. 

Ginny stood by and watched it all happen. Had anyone been looking at her, they would see the amusement dancing in her eyes. As it were, though, the only other people in the room weren’t paying her much mind at all. She watched as Hermione took the little hand that was offered to her then grabbed her pre-packed tote bag from the kitchen counter and threw it over her shoulder.

Hermione took a steadying breath. No time like the present to shock your friends and piss off your ex, it would seem. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these mugs are very real. The only one I don't own is the paintbrush one, and I regret not purchasing it every day (but it was $22 and I am poor).


	3. Chapter 3

The trio left Hermione’s apartment and walked to the nearest apparition point. Scorpius used his free hand to point at different buildings and flowers, asking questions that Hermione did her best to answer. When they got to the apparition point, Scorpius reached his other hand up towards Hermione. She got the message and scooped him into her arms. If you’d told her when she was at Hogwarts that she’d one day be holding a Malfoy in her arms, she’d have had you committed. What a funny day. 

Hermione held Scorpius tight against her chest and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. The pull of apparition started in her gut and – _POP!_ – then they were just outside the quidditch stadium, surrounded by other spectators milling about. Ginny was beside them a couple of seconds later. Scorpius kept his face firmly in her shoulder, even after she let him know that they were at the stadium. She rubbed the poor boy’s back and hoped it would give him some comfort. She knew that as an adult side-apparition was less than fun. She couldn’t imagine being a child and having to go through it, but she knew it was safe and common. She’d seen Harry do it with Teddy a number of times. 

When they got to the front of the queue, Scorpius turned his face toward the ticket checker just long enough for the man to recognize the boy. The man reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair before placing a stamp on his hand and then Hermione’s. 

“If his hands get dirty, evanesco – don’t wash. The stamp keeps him within a 10 meter radius of you,” he said at Hermione’s clearly confused countenance. She nodded and followed Ginny into the stadium. She knew her way around a stadium better than Hermione did, after all. 

When they reach their seats most of the Weasley clan was already there. Thankfully, Hermione noted that Ron had yet to arrive. Harry was also not there yet, and she hoped he still planned on coming with Teddy. 

Ginny greeted her family rather loudly to compensate for their sudden, uncharacteristic silence. Everyone looked at the little bundle in Hermione’s arm. 

“This is Scorpius Malfoy,” she said, knowing Ginny’s chatter couldn’t deter the inevitable. “The people that normally babysit him were busy, so I told Draco I’d watch him. He’s not feeling quite well, at the moment. I think apparating wiped him out.” She rubbed his back again, ignoring Ginny’s raised eyebrow at her use of Draco’s first name. 

Her brothers clearly were not intending on ignoring her spur of the moment decision to refer to (Draco) Malfoy by his first name, but they were unable to get a word in before Molly lunged forward and put her hand to Scorpius face, feeling for a temperature. Hermione knew he wasn’t warm, but she also knew that feeling for a temperature was simply one of Molly’s ways of showing concern, even if she too knew a temperature wasn’t the issue at hand. 

“Poor thing. Victoire wasn’t feeling too well when we got here, either,” She told Hermione, before rubbing her thumb across Scorpius’ cheek. “Would you like a snack, young man? It might help you perk up a bit.” 

Scorpius lifted his head from Hermione’s shoulder then. “Can I still have a snack even if I don’t feel bad anymore?” 

Hermione could pinpoint the exact moment Molly became just as enamored by the boy as she had; when Molly looked into that sweet, innocent, trusting face that she’d never seen on a Malfoy before. “Oh, of course you can! Can’t he, Hermione? Bill, dear, hand me over some of those crackers.” 

Hearing his name, Bill’s brain seemed to sputter back to life. He turned to grab some crackers from his daughter, but she was already climbing onto the bench seat Hermione was standing beside and handing the bag up. Instead of taking the whole bag, Scorpius reached down into the bag and took a few with a polite “Thank you.” 

Hermione sat down on the bench and set Scorpius beside her. Victoire sat down on his other side and placed the bag between them. The two quickly started chattering back and forth, and Hermione turned to look at the gathered Weasleys. 

“Hello, all!” She said by way of greeting, an awkward wave accompanying it. 

“Hullo, Mummy Granger,” George said, snickering even as Angelina swatted his arm. 

Scorpius looked up at her quickly, suddenly disinterested in what Victoire had to say. “Are you a mummy, Miss Mione? Do you have a baby?” There was an accusation she couldn’t name in his tone. 

“No, Scorp, I don’t have any babies yet. Mr. George just thinks he’s funny when he’s not,” she said. George threw a hand over his heart as though she’d wounded him. 

Scorpius scrunched up his nose, and Hermione thought the little wrinkles that appeared between his brows were the sweetest thing she’d ever seen. He didn’t say anything else and instead turned back to Victoire, who was clearly annoyed at having been abruptly ignored but was happy to have the young boy’s attention again. 

“Gee Ginny,” Bill said, “When you said Hermione was bringing someone, we thought you meant a date.” 

Ginny shrugged. “I just told you to not be surprised when she showed up with someone. You drew your own conclusions on what that meant.” 

“You phrased it a particular way knowing we’d draw those conclusions.” 

Ginny gasped, “How _could_ you accuse me of that? I’m not that sly.” 

Before Bill could give Ginny a point by point speech on just how sly she was, Molly began waving her arms frantically. “Yoohoo! Harry, dear! Luna, love! Over here! Oh, and my sweet Teddy!” 

Bill put his hand up to signal them over so Molly would stop her crazy flapping. Luna skipped over to them leaving Harry – with Teddy on his shoulders –to follow. 

As a heavily pregnant Luna was passed from arm to arm for hugs and greetings and wrackspurt inspections, Scorpius turned away from Victoire again and grabbed Hermione’s sleeve, waving for her to hunch over so he could whisper in her ear. “His hair is _blue_ , Miss Mione! Blue!” 

Hermione smiled at Scorp’s excitement. “Well, that’s Teddy. He’s a metamorphmagus, so he can change his hair to whatever color he likes! When he’s older he’ll be able to change other parts of how he looks, too. Isn’t that cool?” 

“Cool,” Scorp breathed in agreement, still staring at Teddy. 

As if he felt the stare, Teddy, who had been passed to Molly for cooing, turned to look in their direction. When he saw Scorpius, his hair shifted from bright blue to pale blond. He squirmed his way out of Molly’s hold and climbed over the bleachers between them until he was beside them. 

“Wotcher Victoire! Wotcher Aunt Hermione!” Teddy said, turning to each of them when he greeted them and looking back at Scorpius. 

“Hello Teddy. Come meet Scorpius. I’m watching him while his dad plays in the game.” 

Teddy lit up. “Your dad is playing? What position?” 

Scorpius’ little chest puffed out with Malfoy pride. “He’s a seeker. The best seeker in the world!” 

Harry and most of the Weasleys started to chuckle as Ginny mumbled, “I am not going to correct him because he’s only a child, but he’s wrong.” 

Teddy didn’t try to correct Scorpius either, which slightly offended Ginny – she had been drilling Harpies loyalty into the boy since he was a baby, and she thought he’d defend their seeker. Teddy looked at Scorp’s jersey before turning to the field where the players were now running their warmup drills and watching intently Scorpius’ dad. Sure, Teddy had seen his Aunt Ginny play as a professional, but he’d known her forever and all the Holyhead Harpies by proxy. 

People who’d changed your nappies weren’t as cool as strangers, it would seem. 

Hermione smiled and tried to prepare herself for Ron’s inevitable appearance. She had spent the past few days worrying more about getting along with her ex-nemesis’ child rather than preparing for her ex-boyfriends encroaching tantrum. He was late to everything, so she knew she'd still have a few minutes to really compose herself. The Weasleys seemed to understand her subtle disinterest in the conversation and left her to herself. 

Seven minutes from the start of the game, and Ron was stalking up the stairs toward their seats: predictable as ever. His eyes lit up for a second when he saw Hermione. He had been telling anyone who would listen that she’d forgive him eventually; “couldn’t stay away if she’d had herself trapped in a full body bind” was the exact wording, if Hermione recalled correctly (and she _rarely_ recalled incorrectly). 

The glint in his eyes faded rather quickly when he noticed the bright orange jersey. Frustration set in his brow when he saw that his friends and family were all sporting something orange in support of his _least_ favorite team. He turned towards his mum, a whinge on the tip of his tongue when he spotted the tiny blond kids sitting on the bench behind her. One was Victoire, one was Teddy, and one was… 

Frustration became fury. 

“What’s that little death eater brat doing here, huh?” 

Hermione quickly threw a muffliato charm on the children who all (rather hilariously, one would think when looking back) rolled their eyes, recognizing the telltale buzzing sound that meant adults were talking about adult stuff. 

When Hermione had twisted around to cast the spell, Ron noticed the fat, white MALFOY spanning her shoulders. 

“Shacked up with bloody Malfoy, have you? That desperate, are you?” Ron asked. His face had turned redder than she’d ever seen it, and in record time, too. 

Hermione took a big breath, intent on putting Ron in his place, but Molly beat her to it. 

“Ronald _Billius_ Weasley! What did you call that innocent little boy?” Molly asked, her voice terrifyingly quiet and even. 

“Innocent? He’s Malfoy’s kid and-” 

“No matter! A child is a child! And who are you to think you have any say in how or with whom Hermione spends her time, anyhow, hmm?” Her tone brokered no argument, but Ron was too dense to notice. 

Ron spluttered for a second like an engine struggling to turn over before finally starting up. “How can I ever take her back after this? It’ll be all over the news that she’s playing mummy to that ferret spawn.” 

If Molly weren’t so hellbent on having a nice game day with the rest of her family, she’d have slapped him. She’d have hit her youngest son square across the face. She’d have felt guilty about it later, but she sure would have done it. He was a grown man after all. 

As it were, though, she didn’t fancy getting herself kicked out. She reached out and quickly grabbed Ron by the ear, apparating out of the stadium. She’d have to go through security again to get back in, but she was sure the lines would be short now that the game had started, so she didn’t mind. 

Everyone stood in a rather awkward silence staring at where Ron and Molly had stood before Ginny broke out into a fit of giggles. 

“Hermione,” she said, trying to compose herself. “Hermione didn’t even get to say her piece. Not a word!” 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as well. The whole point had been for her to chew out Ron and get some satisfaction from the whole fresh hell that was the end of her relationship. Still, she was glad that Scorpius hadn’t been dragged into something absolutely traumatizing, and there was a deep satisfaction in seeing Molly, a normally doting mother, absolutely berate Ron. Everyone else started laughing, including the kids who still could not hear anything but were infected by the adults’ suddenly light mood. 

Hermione removed the muffilato, still giggling, and ruffled the boys’ hair. She knew better than to mess with Victoire’s hair. 

Arthur squeezed Hermione’s shoulder: it was his way of showing that he was on her side. He wasn’t good with confrontation. Molly was always the disciplinarian, and she had filled that role today as well. Hermione reached up and squeezed his hand in response. His support was enough. 

Everyone else turned towards the game, more lighthearted than one might expect after such a confrontation. Hermione glanced around and realized the people in the seats around them were so absorbed in the game that they’d barely batted an eye at the argument before them. 

The power of sports. 

Hermione settled back onto the bleachers, splitting her attention between watching the kids and idly watching the game. She pulled a novel out of her bag and set it in her lap, thumbing the corners of the pages but not reading. She tilted her head back and soaked in the beautiful day. 

She almost felt bad for feeling so at peace. She had built up this confrontation so much in her head, but it had only lasted a couple of minutes. She had a speech planned, and she’d not said a word of it. She might feel childish for wanting revenge at all if she wasn’t so pleased. She’d have to leave any verbal altercations for a later meeting. It wasn’t as if she’d never see Ron again. It was only a matter of time. At the moment, though, she couldn’t be bothered. 

After an hour of lazing on the bleachers, Hermione spotted someone with a camera a bit lower in the bleachers. When she looked at him, the photographer swiftly swung his camera towards the field, but Hermione had no doubt he’d been taking pictures of Scorpius. She hopped to her feet and walked over to the kids. 

“Is anyone hungry? I think I’m going to find something to eat,” she said, ready to get Scorpius out of the photographer’s view. She knew there was no avoiding having their picture taken, but she could at least limit it. Teddy and Victoire both shook their heads, having eaten before coming and continuing to snack on crackers. Scorpius, however, jumped to his feet. 

“I didn’t eat any crackers, Mione - well, I didn’t eat lots of them - because I remember that we’re going to share sugar quills!” 

“Ah, but we have to eat chicken strips and chips first, yeah?” Hermione said, reaching to pick Scorpius up. 

He scrunched up his nose and leaned back to look at her face. “I can walk!” 

“I know, Scorp, but there’s so many people here that I’m afraid I’ll get lost and won’t be able to find you,” she said. “If I carry you, then at least we’ll be lost together.” 

Scorpius considered her words for a moment before nodding his assent. 

While Miss Mione carried him, Scorpius couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being held by a mum felt like. He’d seen his aunts Pansy and Millicent do it with their little babies. When they got food, she had let him pick what dipping sauces they got, and when they were eating sugar quills she split one with him even though he’d already had a whole one to himself! She held him close as they ate and until the end of the game, and he even read some of her book to him. That had to mean she liked him a lot! 

All of Miss Mione’s friends were nice and normal to him, too, which was really different from how he was usually treated when he went out with just his dad or Nana. People were either too nice or really mean those times. Miss Mione’s friends were fun and nice and comfy. 

As soon as the game ended, Scorpius’ energy started to dip. He drooped against Hermione and tightened his hold on her. Hermione figured he was probably tired. Godric knew she was ready for a long nap in the most air-conditioned space she could manage. 

As the rest of the spectators began to leave, Hermione brushed Scorpius’ hair away from his forehead, but it refused to stay put. “Oh Scorp, your hair is a mess. Your father will think I’ve put you through the wringer.” 

“I think he may be more understanding than you’d assume,” a familiar voice said. 

“Oh? I sure hope you’re right,” Hermione said, turning to face a flush-faced Draco. His hair was sticking up wildly in several directions, but his face was free of sweat. He must have cast a quick refreshing charm. 

Draco reached out to smooth Scorpius hair, muttering a wandless glamour that smoothed the mess for the most part. “Trust me, Granger, I know how ridiculously disheveled this one can get.” 

Hermione’s friends shifted toward them, politely greeting Draco and congratulating him on a game well played before giving Scorpius a warm goodbye. George reached out to ruffled Scorpius hair, undoing his father’s work and somehow leaving it in a state worse than it’d been before being charmed. 

When the three were left alone again (save the less than subtle prying eyes of media) Draco offered Hermione his arm. “I can apparate you directly out of the stadium, so you won’t have to face the crowd.” 

Hermione nodded and took his arm. Draco adjusted Scorpius in his arms and pulled Hermione closer. The familiar pull of apparition squeezed them and then they were at the apparition point a street over from her apartment. 

Draco let go over Hermione’s arm and gave her a small smile. 

“Thanks,” she said, a bit breathless (from apparating). 

“No problem.” 

“My ears hurt!” Scorpius cried, hands clutched to either side of his head. 

Draco moved his hands to the base of Scorpius skull and started rubbing gently, trying to ease the pain. “This happens sometime when we apparate. Not very often, and the healer said it’s best to continue doing it to build his tolerance. It’s been months since it’s last hurt his ears.” 

Hermione rubbed Scorpius back in sympathy before turning towards her street and waving for Draco to follow. “Come back to mine for some tea or cocoa. He can calm down a bit there and you guys can use my floo to get home.” 

Draco fell into step just behind her, admiring the way her curls bounced as she walked. It was rather prettier than he remembered it being, although it really didn’t look different at all. He’d almost wished he were 13 again, so he could reach out and shove a quill in her hair just to touch it... 

Oh no. 

Oh my. 

_Well,_ Malfoy thought, _all things pass._

But he would be lying if he told himself passing fancies were what he wanted. He’d had enough of those. Still, to be attracted to someone who’d probably never care for you in return... Aphrodite was cruel. 

_It’s just hair,_ he thought. _Plenty of witches have pretty hair. And pretty eyes. And a brain that won’t quit... among other things. Once Granger was out of sight, she’d surely be out of mind._

Naturally, he thought it. 

But he didn’t believe it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! No set upload schedule at the moment. Just trying to get as much as I can written, edited, and out now because I’ve just finished up my spring semester, and I start my summer semester in 2 or 3 weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

When they got into her apartment, Hermione rushed towards the kitchen to put the kettle on and Draco lay  Scorp on the couch, but he popped back up, seemingly recovered, and ran to the kitchen. Hermione followed him, moving a chair so that he could go through her mug collection again. 

Draco followed them to the kitchen and watched in awed amusement as his son picked up a mug, gave it an  appraising look, and then shook his head as if finding something lacking before he set it back in the cabinet. 

Finally, he pulled a white mug with gold lettering on it and gently set it on the counter and turned to his dad. “That one’s yours.”

Hermione smiled. “Excellent job,  Scorp . Now down we go!” She said, picking the boy up and playfully swinging him to the ground.

“And what does my mug say, then?” Malfoy asked his son.

Scorpius simply shrugged, genuinely unsure, and ran back into the living room, collapsing on the couch.

Hermione grabbed the mug and handed it to Draco before going to turn the TV on for Scorp. 

Draco looked down at the shiny gold letters and let out a shocked bark of laughter as he read the word ‘Goal Digger.’

When Hermione returned to the kitchen, she asked, “Coffee or Tea?” 

Malfoy set the mug down. “I believe cocoa was on the table?”

She let out a little laugh. “Sweet tooth then, Malfoy?”

“You could say so.”

Hermione turned to the stove and quickly got to work heating some milk.

“Thank you again for taking such care of Scorp. I saw him having fun with those other children... he’s never got to do that before.”

“Teddy’s your family, you know? They got on well, too.”

“Yes. Yes, I...” he hesitated, “I thought about reaching out to aunt Andromeda many times, but I’m afraid I never followed through.”

Hermione kept her gaze intent on the stove. “She’d like that, you know. If you reached out... or your mum if you didn’t feel comfortable. She’s been just as scared to reach out, but she needs family now more than ever.”

Draco perched himself on the counter beside the stove, and ran his hand through is hair once... twice. “I’ll let mum know. It might be better for the two of them to talk before I start trying to set up play dates.”

“Bend over for a second.”

“What?” Draco asked.

“Bend over,” Hermione said as she placed a hand on his back and pushed him forward, using her free hand to grab cocoa powder and sugar from the cabinet he sat in front of. When she’d set it down, she gave him a tap on the back. “You can sit up now. And it’s Harry you’ll have to talk to about play dates, not Andromeda. He’s Teddy’s guardian.”

Draco couldn’t believe Granger – Hermione Granger! - had just pushed him down. It took him a moment to register what she’d said. 

“Ah. I had heard he had taking charge of a child. I hadn’t... I hadn’t realized it was  Nymphadora’s child, although I suppose I should have puzzled that out.”

“She  preferred Tonks.”

“Hmm?” 

“She didn’t like the name  Nymphadora . Hated it, in fact. She  preferred Tonks, even after she got married.”

She hadn’t said it to be mean, but in that  moment, Draco felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders. The guilt of having never known a part of his family – of never reaching out to his cousin and knowing he no longer had that option. 

She  interrupted his sad thoughts when she pushed a hot mug into his hand. She grabbed his other hand and placed it to cradle the mug, her hand lingering on his in a comforting gesture. “She’d be happy, you know? That Teddy and Scorpius would have the chance to grow up together in the way you guys couldn’t.”

Draco nodded, the lump in his throat only growing. Hermione smiled and turned to poor Scorpius and herself some cocoa as well. Hermione cast a mild cooling charm on Scorpius’ cocoa to keep it warm but not hot. She settled onto the couch and carefully Scorpius his mug.

Scorp set his head on Hermione’s arm in that slightly stiff manner that kids had when they were intentionally trying to mimic signs of affection that they had observed. Hermione chatted to him about whatever she’d put on the  telly for him, sipping her own drink as he jabbered away. 

Draco’s heart ached. Scorpius had always been a shy child, and he was naturally weary of women. He didn’t have much memory of Astoria, at least Draco didn’t think he did, but he clearly knew his mum had been there one day and had gone the next. When  Scorp had started interacting with the children of Draco’s friends, he’d started asking questions. Why’d he not  have a mum? 

Merlin, when he’d first asked that, Draco had wished Astoria had died! It was an awful thought to have about another human being, but it would have been so much easier than having to tell his son that his mother had left them to romp around the world with some gent she’d met at some mindless social function. 

Anyway,  Scorp didn’t like women. Unless the  woman was his Nana, he didn’t trust them. He was even wary of Pansy and  Daphne, afraid they’d leave his friends like Astoria had left them. 

But he liked Granger.

They needed to leave. Draco had to take his son before he could get too attached. Granger and he weren’t friends – not really. But how could he drag his son away from this moment? Wasn’t it good that he was getting over his dislike for women? He could allow his son this one day.

He moved to sit with them. He was fascinated by the  telly after all. He sat with Scorpius between he and Granger. Best he not  get to close to her, given his new and confused attraction to her. No, it was better to use his son as a human shield from a woman so much better than him that simple physical attraction was all he could allow. What a coward he was. What a way to come down from the high of a win. 

When  Scorp started to droop into Hermione’s side, Draco knew he was nearly in the clear. He was almost asleep, and when he was asleep it’d be easy to make their excuses and leave.

But then Hermione started to chat with him, her voice soft so not to stop his son’s fast track to sleep. 

“What do you think of it, then?”

Draco scrunched up his nose. She had change the  telly back to some singsong play. “I don’t understand why she’s so enamored with her neighbor. She doesn’t even know him!”

Hermione scoffed. “It’s a musical that was made in the 1940s about the early 1900s. Falling for someone you know next to nothing about was considered romantic. Afterall, the only way to find out more was to speak to them.  Scandalous! ”

She laughed quietly at her own joke, and he couldn’t help but chuckled along with her. 

Scorpius was limp against her now. Draco could pick him up and leave. He  _ should _ pick him up and leave. What good does dragging the moment out do? Just pick him up, thank Granger again, and then go. 

Easy. 

Hermione started humming along to whatever silly song was playing in the _ film. _ Draco supposed he could stay for a bit longer. His muscles were taught from the game. He could do with a moment of relaxation. He’d just close his eyes and listen to the telly for a few minutes more.

When Hermione realized she had not one, but two –  _ two!  _ \- Malfoys asleep in her apartment, she wasn’t entirely sure what to do. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t  _ at all  _ sure what to do. What could she do? If she moved, Scorpius would fall against the couch, and his father against him! But if she didn’t move, who knew how long they’d stay as they were? She didn’t mind, per se, but still... She should wake them. Or Draco, at least...

He looked like a completely different man when he was asleep, his muscles relaxed. Like he’d never fought in a war. Hermione wondered if she ever looked like that. She couldn’t imagine. 

She grabbed the remote and turned the volume down.

What could it hurt to let them rest? She wrapped her arm around Scorpius as best she could and cuddled up. There were a couple hours until what she imagined would be  Scorp’s dinner time. She could let them rest on her couch until then. 

-

Well, she’d intended to wake them up at 5 so they could head home for dinner, but one movie had turned to another, and she’d gotten well and truly distracted. It was only when Scorpius started to stir, stretching and pushing at his father and Hermione, that she realized how late it’d gotten. She twisted as best she could to look out her nearest window, noting with some shock how dark it was outside. Grown Malfoy started stirring next, and Hermione had a moment of panic.

What should she say? How could she explain why she’d let them sleep so long?

She ran a hand over  her hair , trying to flatten what wasn’t really mussed to begin with. 

Draco’s hair, however, was standing up straight where it’d laid against the top of his son’s head. He looked around, clearly confused, his gaze finally settling on Hermione. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his fist like a child. 

“Granger? What time is it?”

She grabbed her wand from the end table and cast a quick tempus. 7:14 shimmered in the air before them. 

“I’m sorry, Malfoy, I really meant to wake you earlier. One of the less savory aspects of the tele is they can be very distracting.”

Soon  Scorp was sitting up and rubbing his eyes, too. He looked just as confused as his father. Proof of genetic inheritance at work. 

Scorpius moved from his father’s side and cuddled into Hermione’s, closing his eyes and going back to sleep. 

Draco sighed. Scorpius was a shy child, and he didn’t take to people well. It was worrisome how much he’d come to like Granger. He hadn’t expected it, and he can’t  rightly say he was happy with it. How could he explain to his son that this was a one-time deal? Next game it was back to Nana’s.

Hermione was still staring at him, worrying her bottom lip and absentmindedly rubbing Scorpius’s back. 

Draco shook the thoughts out of his head. “Sorry Granger. Normally I’m home by the time the  adrenaline of a good game wears off.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“I should get him all tucked in.” Draco reached for his son and  Hermione stood, picking  Scorp up and passing him over. 

Hermione had to gently pry the boy’s fingers from her shirt. When he was in his father’s arms, she smoothed his hair back from his face and couldn’t help but smile at how much he looked like Draco in his first few years at Hogwarts. Except there was no tenseness to his face. No anger or expectation. Sweet and innocent and hair slightly too slicked back. 

“Let me know if you ever need someone to watch him again,” she said, not taking her eyes from the boy’s sleeping face. “We didn’t get to do much reading together today, so I’m sure we could do with another match or two together before he’s sick of me.”

Draco couldn’t imagine someone growing sick of her – her confidence and her know-it-all-ness – he'd always depended upon it as a consistency in his school days. 

“You might regret that offer, Granger.”

At that, she did raise her gaze to meet his. “I very rarely make poor choices... Draco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Story is not abandoned, just delayed! My summer classes are just a lot heftier than I was expecting, and I’m working full time. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Do you think your boobs should have names?” 

“Ginny, I’m trying to work.” 

“I’m just saying, aren’t they a big enough part of you that they should have their own names?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Not really, but like... would you name yours?” 

“Mine have names,” Hermione said, pulling an old manuscript in a clamshell box from a shelf and placing it on her cart as if nothing were abnormal. 

“Really? What?” 

Hermione smirked to hide her embarrassment. “Florish and Blotts.” 

“Oh, brilliant!” Ginny breathed in awe. “What should mine be?” 

“Ginny, I am at work. This is not professional.” 

“Honey and Dukes?” 

“Ugh, no! Honeydukes is one word. You need something with two words,” Hermione said, grabbing another manuscript with both hands and carefully setting it on her cart before marking it off her pull list. 

“Well, what well known pairs are there?” 

Hermioned repressed a giggle, “Ron and Harry?” 

Ginny snatched a book from Hermione’s cart and acted as if she’d throw it. “Gross and unfunny.” 

“Sorry! Sorry. Put Merlin’s diaries down please.” 

Ginny pouted a moment longer before gently lowering the volume back to Hermione’s cart. 

“What’s brought on your sudden interest in breast names, anyway?” 

“Helga brought it up during practice the other day. She said if men name their willies, we can name our breasts.” 

“Can we please talk about anything that would require some semblance of critical thinking or discussion, please?” 

Ginny scoffed. “Fine. How about we talk about the front page of Witch Weekly? Or The Daily Prophet? Or maybe Quidditch Quibbles?” 

“How about Quaffle and Bludger, then?” Hermione said, quickly casting her gaze back to her pull list. 

“Haha! You sneek. You had an excellent one the whole bloody time, didn’t you?” 

Hermione started pushing her cart back to her desk, attempting the ignore Ginny tactic. It seemed to be working, too, until she’d settled into her desk. 

Ginny plopped into the seat across from her, stealing a candy from her desk, and asking, “So onto our other topic, I suppose?” 

“We knew it was going to happen, Ginny.” 

“I think you play step-mum very nicely.” 

Hermione stopped what she was doing and looked straight into Ginny’s eyes. “That is not funny, Ginevera. You should never mock the relationship between a mother and her child.” 

Ginny felt her cheeks burn with shame. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I didn’t think -” 

“I know,” Hermione said. “Listen, can we please not do this now. I have work.” 

Ginny nodded. She stood up and grabbed her bag from the coat rack. “Hermione, just so you know,” she said, “I really do think you and mini Malfoy seemed to have bonded. I wasn’t trying to- I mean, I-” 

Hermione’s expression softened. “I know, Ginny. I’ll see you later.” 

Ginny nodded and left. Hermione managed to hold her tears in a full 5 minutes before she started quietly bawling her eyes out. 

So many years since the war – since reversing her parents’ memories – and her mother still hadn’t forgiven her. Her father had, of course. He and Hermione had always been two birds of a feather. But her mother had been enraged. Even now, whenever Hermione went to visit, her mother would invent an errand that had her out of the house for the duration of her time there. 

She had known that the papers would have a riot, but she hadn’t expected the types of articles they’d wrote. She’d expected romance speculation or hit pieces about associating with the wrong sorts. Hell, she’d even expected a secret love child paper. She’d been the subject of the papers more than enough to know the sordid lows they’d stoop to. 

But she hadn’t expected this. They were painting it as genuine. A love story. “Never too Late!” one headline had boasted. She and Draco weren’t even old! 

None of it really bothered her except the articles and photos centered on her and Scorpius. Gods, it was so unfair! She couldn't believe that there were people who could treat a maternal bond as something to pull out for cheap gossip. The only saving grace was that Scorpius wasn’t old enough to read newspaper articles without assistance and no reasonable adult would think to read such nonsense to a child. 

When she thought of it like that, there was really no need to be upset. She knew it would blow over –it always blows over. Still... 

Hermione had burned the first article she’d seen insinuating that she and Scorpius were clearly attached. And then she had to go out and purchase another copy to add to the British National Library of Magic and Mysticism. There were very few times she disliked her position as archivist and lead reference librarian, but that had been one of them undoubtably. 

As she wrote out hold notices to send via owl, she wondered if Malfoy would take her up on her offer to watch Scorpius. If he did, she could bring out her boombox and show him her CDs, or her new mp3 player if she were feeling nice. 

One of the articles she'd hate read that morning had mentioned the Cannons were playing the following week. He’d probably have to ask her soon if he wanted her to watch Scorp. But he probably wouldn’t feel comfortable asking her so soon after she last watched him. Should she reach out and let him know she was really genuine in her offer? 

The nib of her quill broke, and ink spattered several of her notices. She’d pressed down to hard. 

“Bollocks.” 

She quickly separated the good notices from the ruined, cleaned her desk, and started again. These need to be out by noon so any researchers could access their manuscripts in the afternoon. She had to focus... 

Besides, hadn’t Malfoy said he normally had options when it came to watching Scorp? He had plenty of people he’d go to before her. There was no way he’d message her. Still, it couldn’t hurt to leave her outing bag packed with a couple copies of Hera the Hippogriff. 

She sent her notices. 

And she couldn’t see the harm in downloading some song from On Moonlight Bay to her Zune. Just in case she had the opportunity to show him. 

\- 

As soon as Draco stepped through the floo, he knew that he’d not get to practice on time. His mother sat perched on a chair in front of the family-only fireplace. She didn’t look up when he entered with Scorp on his hip. Instead, she pretended to continue reading a copy of Witch Weekly. Utter trash. 

“Daddy, look! Me and Mione!” Scorpius pointed to the cover of the magazine. A photo of Hermione splitting a sugar quill and handing Scorpius the larger half moved in slow motion. Scorpius wriggled out of his father’s grasp and ran towards Narcissa, snatching the magazine from hands and beaming down at the picture. 

“Scorpius, we do not grab things out of peoples’ hands,” Draco said. 

Scorpius face started to turn red. Draco could sense the rare tantrum mounting. “It’s me and Mione! It’s mine! Mine!” He stomped his feet. 

“That doesn’t mean you can just rip something out of someone’s hands. It's not nice. You have to ask Nana if you can see the magazine.” 

Draco saw something flash in Scorpius eyes – it was a defensive stare, but he’d never directed it at Draco before. Just as Draco was about to say something, Scorpius ripped the cover from the magazine, threw the rest of the pages to the ground, and ran out of the room. 

Draco was shocked. His tantrums usually came when he was being forced to interact with others, not with him. 

Draco moved to go after his son, but his mother stopped him. “The elves are always keeping an eye on him. Let him cool off. He's growing up, afterall. He must learn that he sometimes needs to look at his emotions himself. Now come - explain all this gossip to me, then.” 

He hesitated a moment before nodding and following her to the sitting room. They sat in silence as an elf poured their tea. The awkwardness was only prolonged by the quite clanking of silverware on china as they prepared their tea to their liking. 

After taking a sip of her tea and deeming it up to snuff, Narcissa broke the silence, “Scorpius seems very attached to Miss Granger, if this morning’s events are anything to go by.” 

“So it seems,” Draco said, sensing the oncoming interrogation. 

“How long have you known each other, then?” 

“Why, since we were children, Mother. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten we were classmates at Hogwarts?” 

“Do not try to be smart with me, Draco. It’s undignified. How long have you been reacquainted? It must have been going on for quite some time for Scorpius to have grown so, ah, enamored with her. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Ah. There it was. His mother’s true concern – being left out of the loop. He couldn’t blame her. Information had been her only lifeline on more than one occasion. 

“I met up with her like a week ago to help her with a problem she was having, and she agree to watch Scorp for the game in return.” 

Narcissa gave him a disbelieving look – one raised eyebrow. 

“Mother, I swear. Ask Scorp how long he’s known her. Whenever he comes ‘round again, that is.” 

Narcissa scoffed. “Easily done. Twinkle?” 

A house elf popped up beside their table. “Yes, mistress?” 

“Would you tell Scorpius there are breakfast sweets on the table whenever he’d like to join us.” 

The elf looked briefly at the spread of sweets and smiled. “Oh, the little mister will be happy to have cinnamon rolls. I will go now.” 

After several minutes of silent tea sipping, the door to the sitting room creeped open slowly. It was silent, of course, but the adults had had their senses sharpened against the whetstone of war and noticed it immediately. 

They did not acknowledge it, though. They simply let the boy slowly walk over to them and pull himself into a chair beside his father. Without saying anything, he slowly reached for a cinnamon roll and placed it on his plate. When no one said anything, he reached for a second. Still silence. It was only when he pressed on for a third that his father asked him politely for the tongs so he could grab himself a scone. 

“Scorpius, lovely,” Narcissa said, when the young boy had a mouth full of pastry, “Your father and I were talking about your friend from that cover, and I was wondering how you and she have known one another.” 

When Scorpius had finished his rather large bite, he answered his Nana, “Me and Mione watched the game with her friends while Daddy played. I like Mione. She let me pick out a mug when we had tea.” Then Scorpius turned to his father. “When can we go see Mione? I miss her.” 

“You just saw her two days ago, Scorpius. You can’t miss her that terribly.” 

Scorpius to a big bite of his cinnamon roll and chewed with his mouth open just to make his dad and Nana mad. Why didn’t his dad understand? Mione was his friend and he wanted to see her! He bet she liked cinnamon rolls. 

He eyed the second roll he’d set on his plate and slowly placed it on top of his napkin, scrunching up the top it to close it as best he could. 

“What are you doing, Scor?” 

“I think Mione would like a cinnamon roll, so she can have my other one.” 

Draco and Narcissa shared a look. He’d give up a second treat? 

“Pal, you don’t even know if Grang- Hermione likes cinnamon rolls,” Draco said, setting aside his food in favor of observing his son. 

“She does.” 

“Did she tell you that, dear?” Narcissa asked, punctuating her question with a sip of tea. 

“No, but she would. She likes sugar quills, and I like sugar quills. And she likes chips, and I like chips.” His matter of fact tone brokered no argument. 

Draco tried to reason with him. His attachment to Granger was making him nervous. Almost as nervous as when she’d called him Draco just a couple of nights ago. “Wouldn’t you rather have that cinnamon roll for yourself?” 

Scorpius looked longingly at the little bundle he’d made then shook his head no. Draco sighed and returned to his own plate, trying to think of ways to dissuade his son. 

Narcissa could not believe her eyes. Or ears, for that matter. Scorpius had never been an open child. What irony that he should attach to the one woman their family had most wronged. Well, Narcissa would not let the child be denied that affection. Not like she’d let Draco be denied. 

“Scorpius dear, eat your cinnamon roll. I’ll have the elves pack up some cinnamon rolls for you to bring your friend when you go visit her.” 

“Mother!” 

“Now now, Draco. It is polite to extend a thank you a day or two after a favor has been done,” Narcissa said. 

Draco looked at his son who had just unwrapped his second cinnamon roll and was making quick and happy work of it. Granger had said she could watch him again. Maybe, then, it would be alright for a quick stop by. A way to really impress his gratitude for her watching him. 

Anyway... he knew he couldn’t deny his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peep me googling when Zunes were invented.


	6. Chapter 6

What Hermione had not expected on a Monday evening was Malfoy. Malfoys, actually. 

“Mione!” Scorpius shouted, pushing away from his father’s side and launching himself into Hermione’s arms. “I brought you cinnamon rolls. Do you like cinnamon rolls? I bet you do!”

Hermione’s eyes darted back and forth between the child and his apologetic looking father. Quickly, she calmed herself and squatted to come face to face with Scorpius. “I do like cinnamon rolls,  Scorp , thank you! You’re such a good friend. Shall we head in?”

Scorpius nodded and rushed inside, grabbing her hand to pull her with him. She turned back towards Draco and motioned for him to follow. 

Draco stepped into Hermione’s flat for the second time in his life. He followed like a hanger-on, setting the cinnamon rolls on the center of the dining table his son had dragged Granger to. Scorpius had dragged two chairs together so that he was sitting hip to hip with her. 

Hermione made a big show of reaching for one of the rolls,  exaggerating her excitement for the little boy. When she took a bite of the treat, however, her enthusiasm transformed into something very real. She moaned a bit at the pure genius that was that pastry, and realized she’d not had a sweet in quite some time. 

Draco sat up straight as a rod, trying not to stare on her happy face or the way she sucked on her fingertips to get  every last bit of cinnamon sugar. Draco was suddenly very aware of just how long it’d been since he’d been with a woman. 

A year or so after the divorce, he’d tried to date.  After many awkward dates and some casual sex, Draco decided it was a waste of time. He’d rather spend the time he had in the off-season with his son. His hand had gotten him through  puberty and it had worked just as well for past few years. Not as good as sex but that was to be expected. He hadn’t had any trouble controlling himself. He shifted slightly in his seat, crossing his legs.

At least not until now.

Noticing his stare, Hermione wiped her fingers on a napkin and gasped. “Where are my manners, would you both like some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you,” Draco said quickly. 

“Tea!” Scorpius said,  hopping up to help her. 

Hermione was thankful of the distraction. She’d expected an owl if he needed her to watch  Scorp again. Instead they’d shown up at her door on a day when she’d opted for lounge wear and had only bothered to throw half of her hair up. She tried to tuck a few stray pieces behind her ears despite knowing they wouldn’t stay. 

She helped Scorpius fill the kettle with water and let him toss the tea bags into the pot, counting each one together out loud. Once, she made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder and saw Draco staring at her. It wouldn’t have been so unsettling if one of them had just bothered to look away quickly. Instead they stared at one another until Scorpius demanded Hermione’s attention. 

Rather than pull up a chair for  Scorp to stand on, she picked him up and set him on the counter, standing behind him and holding his waste to make sure he wouldn’t fall as he selected the same mugs they’d used before. Hermione pretended she didn’t feel Draco’s gaze on her as she bent over to set Scorpius back on the ground. 

She couldn’t help but wonder what the hell was happening.

“Scorpius, why don’t you go place the mugs on the table, and I’ll bring the pot over,” Hermione said. The little boy took one of the mugs in both his hands, slowly walking over to the table and setting it down before rushing back for the second and then third. Hermione slipped a cozy over the tea pot before pouring the water and bringing it over to the table. She grabbed three plates and one in front of each of their chairs. “That way we can all snack.”

Scorpius shot a sharp look at his father, his lips sealed tight. He wasn’t going to argue with another cinnamon roll, that much was clear. His father, however, was warring between saying no and keeping his son from eating too many  sweets, or saying yes as would be polite. 

“How about we split one, Scorp? I don’t want your tummy hurting since you already ate some at Nana’s,” Draco said, vowing to himself that night would veggie night for dinner. 

Scorpius nodded. His dad letting him have EVEN MORE  sweets? Mione’s flat was the best! He sat, kicking his legs happily as his father split their pastry and Mione prepared his tea for him just how his dad always did it – a little tea, lots of milk, no sugar. 

After her guests both had their tea and snack, Hermione served herself. After another glorious bite of cinnamon, Hermione turned to Draco. “What brings the two of you here, then?”

It was Scorpius that answered. “Nana says it’s polite to say thank you again since you watched me at Dad’s game. Are you going to watch me at next week’s game? Do you like quidditch? I don’t, but I like the Cannons. Will Teddy and Victoire be there? I like them.” He stopped abruptly and took a big bite of his pastry. 

“Scorpius, Nana is watching you at the next game.”

“Why can’t Nana and Mione both watch me?”

Hermione tried to control her expression at the idea of sitting at a recreational function with Narcissa Malfoy. They only tended to rub elbows at charity events when the two had the common  interest of raising money for some cause or another. Rather than say something wrong, she simply took a sip of her tea and pretended she wasn’t listening. Best not to interfere with a parent having a discussion with his child. 

“Because I only set aside two personal tickets for this game; one for you and one for Nana.”

“But I want to see Teddy and Victoire!”

“Well,” Hermione felt comfortable stepping in here because she and Draco had briefly discussed setting up time for Teddy and Scorpius to play together, “I can talk to your Dad and Teddy’s God-Dad about setting up a time for the two of you to play together. I’m sure I can reach out to Victoire’s parents as well.”

“Can we come here to play? I want to watch more movies.”

Draco couldn’t believe his son was being so forward. “Scorpius, you cannot invite yourself over to other people’s homes.”

Scorpius turned to his father. “Why?”

“Because it’s impolite.”

“Why?”

“Because what if that person doesn’t want you to come over?”

Scorpius whipped his head back around and asked Hermione, “You don’t want me here?”

His expression had  fallen and Hermione thought he might cry. She reached out and touched his cheek. “Oh, of course you’re always welcome here. Don’t you fret.” Then she turned to Draco. “He’s really always welcome, don’t be upset with him.”

Scorpius threw himself into Hermione’s arms, and they shared a big hug. Scorpius moved his head onto Hermione’s shoulder and stuck out his tongue at his dad. Shows him what’s what! Hermione wants him around.

Draco couldn’t believe it. Spoiled. His son was spoiled. And it wasn’t by him or his Nan – it was by Hermione Granger. One quidditch game and Scorpius had Granger wrapped around his little finger. Draco had a moment of misplaced pride – his son may not have been raised to be an  elitist like the generations before him, but he was still a charmer. 

However, what Draco couldn’t figure out was why his son was attached to  _ her _ . There weren’t many people Scorpius really liked to be around. Sure, he’d be polite to Draco’s friends and even have fun with them  once in a while , but he never asked to see them. He never went out of his way to ask them if he could visit.  It worried Draco. Seeing how weak Granger was against his son helped ease a bit of his worry – she was clearly enamored with him, and she wouldn’t be quick to disappoint him. 

Draco balked a bit at how quickly he and his son were quickly becoming intertwined in Granger’s life. When Granger and Scorpius stopped hugging, Draco nodded a bit to acknowledge what she’d said. 

Hermione smiled and blushed a bit when she made eye contact with Draco. If she’d have been alone, she might have to give herself a little slap. She blamed Ginny for making her aware of Draco. She was the one, after all, who had so  _ rightly _ pointed out Draco’s physical appeal. 

Hermione had thought he was attractive in (and out) of his quidditch orange, but his casual look was equally good in a completely different way. He looked kind of dorky, to be completely honest. It was a more refined version of the posh weekend clothes she’d seen at Hogwarts – the kind she’d found obnoxious and posh and that would have totally been her type had it not been for the smarmy ass who filled it out. Sitting at her small table, their knees were almost touching, and she could smell the scent of him – cologne? Bodywash?

She took a sip of her tea and forced her thoughts towards less confusing subjects. 

“Well, Scorpius, there are plenty of cool movies that are made for kids your age that I think you’ll really like. Teddy really likes ‘Spy Kids,’ so I bet we could watch that.”

“What’s it about?” Scorpius asked?

‘“Well, it’s about kids who come from a family of spies.” 

“Cool,” Scorpius breathed in awe. 

“Is there singing like in the last one?” Malfoy asked. He was leaning towards her and Hermione felt a blush heating her skin again. 

“Not like the last one, no, but oh – I do have something I think you’ll like, Draco, just wait a moment.”

She ran to her bedroom and grabbed her Zune and headphones from her nightstand. She checked its charge before rushing back to the kitchen, holding it victoriously over her head as if it were a prize. 

She placed the headphones on Scorpius  head first and played a song from the musical they’d watched the first time they’d met. Scorpius’ eyes went  wide and he stared at Hermione’s face as the song played. When it finished, he took the headphones off and stared at them for a moment before looking at his dad.

“Dad! Dad! You have to- It's awesome!”

Hermione laughed and took the headphones from Scorpius, turning to Draco. She tried to put on her bossy face. “I really  _ do _ think you’ll like this,” Hermione said, moving towards Draco and situating the headphones over his ears.

Draco held his breath at her closeness. His first thought was naturally one of attraction – the urge to kiss her or hold her or simply take her for a meal. But then her hand brushed some of his hair away from his face to place some contraption more comfortably on his head, and all he felt was tenderness. Was  it friendship? Was  it forgiveness?

_ I’m dreaming dreams, I’m scheming schemes _

_ I’m building castles high. _

Draco raised his hands to the contraptions over his ears and stared at Hermione much in the way his son had. Slowly, he closed his eyes and let the music flow directly into his ears. 

Hermione noticed his lips parted slightly as the music washed over him. She was finding many things out about Draco Malfoy that she’d not expected. She was finding she really enjoyed what she was seeing. 

Shit.

Scorpius pulled on her arm and asked if they could watch the tele agai n, and Hermione happily left Draco to enjoy the music before she let herself get carried away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick! Post another update before fall semester starts! Also summer reading ends this week which means I get like 3 weeks to just plan my virtual programs instead of filming :’^)


	7. Chapter 7

If you’d have asked Harry Potter what he’d be spending his biweekly Thursday off on, he’d probably tell you it was a family day – time to spend running around with Teddy or panic-reading a parenting book or trying to figure out how if Luna would marry him if he could get up the courage to ask. He certainly wouldn’t have said in his back yard on a play date with Draco Malfoy.

But there he was, eh? 

When Hermione had suggested that Scorpius and Teddy get together for some  playtime , Harry had immediately agreed. Teddy rarely got to hang out with kids besides the Weasleys, and he’d seemed  really excited to have a new friend. 

What Harry hadn’t considered was that  _ he _ would then have to make small talk with Malfoy. If the men had been smart, they’d have discussed leaving one of the boys with the other and scheduling a designated pick up time. But they’d not done that. Instead, they sat on Harry’s back deck with some butterbeer and watched as the two boys chased one another on their training brooms. ‘

Eventually, Harry just couldn’t take it anymore. He was a chatter. “Man, I wish I’d had one of those as a kid.”

Draco wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. He couldn’t exactly rub in the fact that he’d had one since he’d learn to crawl. “Teddy looks to be an excellent flyer already. I’m surprised Scorpius was even willing to get on the broom, to be honest. He’s not a fan of flying.”

At that, Harry’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “Well, Malfoy, a good friend can get you into all sorts of scrapes.”

“Ha!” Malfoy couldn’t contain his puff of amusement. “And I’m sure an even better one can get you out of them.”

Harry couldn’t help the hearty laugh that welled up from within him. “Yes, I’m sure  Hermione’d agree,” he paused for a moment, “But I’m sure you know all about that.”

“Pardon?” 

Oh Merlin. “Well, you two seem to have become good enough friends for her to help you out on a tough day.” Harry hesitated for a moment and then added, “And Luna and I’d  definitely look out for  Scorp in a pinch, too, since him and Teddy seem to get on so well.”

Draco to ignore the insinuation that he and Granger were anything more than accidental, prolonged acquaintances. “I appreciate it, Potter. I suppose I’ll have to extend that to you as well, especially if the newspapers have it right about Lovegood.”

At that Harry got a goofy grin on his face. “If you hang around for a couple hours, you can see for yourself. No hiding it – not that we’d want to.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile at the man's enthusiasm. He’d been just as ecstatic himself – so much so he didn’t see Astoria’s growing bitterness at her situation. She’d never told him she didn’t want children – in fact, she’d always waxed poetic about what it’d be like when they had children. That had been when they were courting, though, and Draco now recognized it for what it was – an attempt to ensure he wouldn’t oppose their  parents’ plans for their nuptials.

And it worked. He  believed her. Believed they could try to be less fucked up versions of their parents.

Well... that hadn’t happened. 

But he had Scorpius. That was priceless.

Draco gazed at his son for a moment in adoration as he fell from his broom and gently floated to the ground before getting up and hopping right back on. 

As he stared at his son, he realized Potter was still talking. Rambling, in fact. He supposed he should try to pay attention.

“- And I just worry because the  Dysquith book says one thing about potty training but the  Atlenburg says another but  _ both  _ books say if you choose the wrong one, your child will probably grow up to resent you, and I-”

“Potter, shut up,” Draco said, cutting the blabbering man off. 

Harry looked confused, as if he’d been slapped out of a daze. “Pardon?”

“Potter, you have to live through the sleepless nights and teething and blowout nappies and nearly crawling off the  second-floor balcony before you get to think about potty training.”

Harry paled. “What is a blowout nappy?”

Draco smirked. “You know, Potter, I may be able to be civil to you if it means I can see your face when you encounter your first blowout.”

Harry opened his mouth to needle him back, but Hermione crashed into a seat beside them, sighing in exhaustion. Luna had asked her along to help her pick out things for the baby, and it’d been a truly trying experience. 

Harry opened a  butterbeer and slid it toward her, recognizing the telltale signs of frustration in his friend.

Hermione took a swig, thankful that someone had finally decided to turn alcoholic  butterbeer into a mass corporation. “Luna’s inside putting her purchases away,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

“Good trip then?” Harry asked. 

“Harry, I don’t know how to break this to you lightly... Your child is going to sleep on a bean bag.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “ Haha , very funny.”

“What’s a bean bag? And why is the Potter-Lovegood infant going to be sleeping  _ on  _ it rather than  _ in  _ a crib, as is and has been the  pediatric standard for, oh... decades?”

“I’m not laughing, Harry,” Hermione said before turning to Draco, “And it’s exactly as it sounds. A big bag filled with beans made from foam.”

“Well, that’s not at all how it sounded,” Draco said with a scoff before lifting his  butterbeer to his mouth. 

Without thinking, Hermione lifted her hand to tip his drink back further. When he started coughing up his drink, she turned to Harry. “She wanted to go to muggle London. I said okay. There’s plenty of baby shops there, I’m sure, so I figured we’d walk around until we spotted one, yeah.”

“Oh, Hermione, no.”

“So, we were walking around, yeah? I had planned to hit the baby shops in Diagon, not London, so we were running blind. Anyway, there’s a shop just absolutely exuding incense-”

“Please say psych! Please, Hermione!” Harry was pleading.

“Well, naturally, Luna caught the scent-”

“Naturally,” said Draco, finally catching his break after his near drowning. 

“ So we ended up going in, and well... Harry! You should never have expected anything else!”

Harry huffed. “I sent her with  _ you _ because I was sure you’d have a more solid plan.”

“Well, I’m sorry baby shopping isn’t at the top of my expertise, Harold James Potter! Perhaps you should have gone with 

After a prolonged and tense moment of silence, Draco very slowly spoke, “Wait. Your name’s Harold?”

Harry and Hermione both huffed in amusement. 

“No,” Harry said. “That’s just what she calls me when she’s mad.”

“But seriously, Harry, you’ve got to start getting stuff ready. I know you and Luna are a bit more... freewheeling, but she looks like she could pop at any second, and you’ve not even  acquired a crib.”

Draco took a deep breath, trying to convince himself to keep his mouth shut. However, he wasn’t one to let a child go without, and Potter had been remarkably tolerable for the brief afternoon they’d spent quietly watching their children fly amuck like little bats out of hell. He cleared his throat and tried to prepare himself for the repercussions that would certainly follow. 

“You know, Potter, I’ve got a crib in storage. A couple, to be honest. I was so nervous in the last few months before  Scorp was born, and I bought pretty much every expensive crib I could find. Putting them together by hand helped distract me, you know? You’re free to take one. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor getting it out of my storage. I’ve some other bits and bobs that  Scorp has  out grown too, if you really need it... well. Anyways.” He ended his diatribe with a little cough before turning his head to take a sip of his beer. 

Another silence descended on the group, but this one was less tense and held the weight of change in the air. Hermione looked at Draco with a little smile on her face. How far they’d all come since the war – since long before it, too. Here was Draco Malfoy, poster child of a spoiled brat,  _ sharing.  _ With Harry Potter no less. He looked almost bashful and Hermione reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, smiling when he looked at her, startled. 

Harry was trying to keep himself from crying. He was  _ not _ going to cry in front of Malfoy for being a little bit more than halfway decent. Except  he kind of was. “Thanks mate,” he said, pushing his glasses onto his head to rub his eyes. 

Draco kind of wanted to die. He may not hate Potter with the burning embitterment that childish rivalries imbued, but the jump from enemy to vague acquaintance to mate was a bit much for him. He almost retracted his offer. Almost.

“Mione!” Scorpius shouted, jumping off his broom and sprinting towards her. 

“Aunt Mione!” Teddy shouted, following after his new friend.

Hermione accepted the boys’ attack with an oof and  halfhearted protest. 

Scorpius snuggled close her and buried his face in her hair. When Teddy pulled back, so did  Scorpius but Scorpius stayed seated in her lap while Teddy went to sit with Harry. 

Luna came out in a colorful, patchwork dress and slowly lowered herself into the remaining chair. The children very seriously look turns filling the women in on the particulars of their play date. Eventually, though, Teddy wanted to play again, so Scorpius gave Hermione a big hug and the children ran back to their training brooms. 

The adults continued chatting, mostly catching up on Draco’s life to-date, since the rest of them knew most of what was to know about the others. When he’d mentioned a mastery in potions, Hermione was impressed. She’d not been bad at potions, but after the  polyjuice incident of ‘92, she’d had a bit of a distaste for brewing. Too much could go wrong with one slip up. 

Hermione opened her mouth to ask him for his  opinon on an old brewing manuscript the archives had recently acquired, but Harry started speaking before she could organize how she’d wanted to word the question. 

“Why bother getting a potions mastery when you’re loaded?”

Hermine reached over and hit Harry on the arm. Hard. “Do not be rude, Harry.”

Malfoy for his part just laughed and shrugged. “Quidditch is rarely a long-term career, and I honestly can’t imagine just sitting at home and twiddling my thumbs. If my career ended tomorrow, I wouldn’t mind staying home with Scor until he’s off to Hogwarts, but I don’t imagine I’d  particularly enjoy being home alone once he’s gone.”

“I think that’s quite admirable, Draco. I’ve never been one for idle hands either,” Hermione said, blushing a bit. Truly, it was impressive he was so hard working, and she found it interesting he rather take up brewing in his later years than something quidditch adjacent like coaching. She wondered what he’d look like in protective wear for brewing more volatile potions. She knew it wasn’t practical, but a white doctor’s lab coat and a pair of glasses appeared in her imagination, and she had to look away and take a pull of beer to cool herself down. 

Perhaps her question on ancient potions research and testing could wait for another time.

When they were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Manly dude bro bonding idk the opposite sex scares me. (This is a joke. Dismantle the idea that men cannot be outwardly emotional or affectionate <3) 
> 
> Quarantine updates? My ear isn’t beefy enough for an industrial bar piercing and also I think I’m trying to become Pansy Parkinson? 
> 
> Also I am officially in my last semester of my masters program, so in January yall have blanket permission to harang me about not updating. 


	8. Chapter 8

There had been a birth plan. They had a birth plan. Well,  _ Harry _ had a birth plan. Luna hadn’t seemed interested in making one, so he’d made one himself and stuck it up all over the house in the hopes that she might  actually notice it and read it. The birth plan was as follows:

  * Luna goes into labor. It’s her first baby. (The healers and all the books assure him it will probably be slow going. They’ll have plenty of time to get things together before rushing to St. Mungo’s.)
  * Bring Luna to the hospital to get settled. 


  * Drop Teddy off with someone. Options: Hermione (preferred), Andromeda (also good, but wants to be at the hospital with them if possible), or Molly (great, but feeds him too many snacks, and then he has too much energy to sleep). 
  * Return to the hospital.
  * Hold Luna’s hand. Maybe practice some of the breathing stuff he read about (worked really well when he did it on a particularly stressful day at work.)
  * Luna has baby.
  * Harry holds the baby.


  * Harry cries so hard someone has to take the baby away from him so he doesn’t drop it. (Hermione added that bit when revising theplan for him, but Harry decided to leave it in because she was usually right).
  * Introduce their beautiful, perfect child to all of their friends. 
  * Go home and begin their new normal. 



Yes.

That was the plan. That plan did not happen. 

It all started when Luna let out a soft, “Oh!” at the breakfast table as she jellied her toast. 

“What is it, love?” Harry asked, cleaning his glasses on his sleep shirt while he waited for his coffee to brew. 

“I’m in labor,” Luna said, relaxing a bit as her contraction eased a bit. She took a test bite of her toast before applying a bit more jelly. 

Harry’s glasses fell to the floor. “What? You can’t be! It’s too early!”

“Well, Dear, I don’t think the baby agrees. Might you be a dear and ask Andromeda to come and assist? Oh, and drop Teddy somewhere, too? He shouldn't be here for this.”

Harry quickly shoved his glasses back on his face and opened the pantry to stare at one of his birth plan posters. “No, Luna first it’s - well, first is you go in labor, but you’ve done that, so now we go to the hospital.”

Luna chuckled a bit. “Oh no, Hary, my contractions are far too close for  floo travel or  apparation .”

“But- but- your water hasn’t broken and- and mucous plug- and the plan!” All the words from those stupid books were jumbled up in his head.

“Harry, remember your Lamaze breathing. Deep breath in-” they both breathed in. “And long breath out.” They breathed out. “Feeling better now?”

“No, Luna! Hermione’s out of the country to pick up a new acquisition for work, and her return portkey isn’t until this evening! Molly and Arthur are having their biweekly date night, and I’ve no clue where they go when they do that! The other option is Andromeda, but you’ve just said you want her here!”

Harry was panicking. He was really panicking. Then Luna placed her hand on her stomach, wrinkled up her eyebrows and nose, and let out a low hum letting him know that the contractions really were  close, and this really was happening. 

“Okay! Okay. Go lay down in bed. I’m going to go get Andromeda to sit with you, and then I’ll drop Scorpius with – uh – with Malfoy. Sure. Okay. Yes.” 

Luna nodded slowly, her face still a bit scrunched up. “That sounds like a lovely plan, Harry.”

“Right!” Harry said. “Yes! A plan. Yes.” Then he turned on his heel and ran to grab Teddy and  apparate to Malfoy’s place.

-

Malfoy wasn’t totally sure how he’d ended up with his first cousin once removed shoved into his arms. He wasn’t  _ totally _ sure, but he had a rather good idea. If Potter’s panic were anything to go by, Lovegood was about to pop. Even though he’d and  Astoria’d been on the outs long before she’d gotten to that point, he’d been just as panicked. Panicked to be a father. Panicked for his son’s safe birth. Panicked for Astoria, whose health had never been good. 

He looked at Teddy, disheveled, still in his pajamas, and clearly very nervous. Draco softened his expression. “Well it seems your Aunt Luna and Uncle Harry will have a new baby for you to look after when you get back. Now, would you like to go back to sleep or have some brekky and tea with me while we wait for some news?”

Teddy’s hair slowly faded to a pale, Malfoy blonde. “Can we have pancakes?” 

“Yes, I believe I can manage that.”

“Wicked.”

-

When Hermione got back to her office in the archives, she saw the hurried note from Harry on her desk, an emergency owl post stamp on one side of the parchment. She ripped the barely attached seal and unfolded the note, heart pounding as she read what she already knew the note to be. She quickly went secured her new acquisition according to ministry archiving procedures and the  flooed to Luna and Harry’s  place . 

Everything was terrifyingly silent. Hermione had never had a child, but she was certain there was some sort of screaming or crying involved. Hermione felt a chill go down her spine.  _ Perhaps Teddy is in another room somewhere, and they’ve silenced the room for his sake,  _ Hermione thought, trying to comfort herself. She climbed the stairs and went straight for the master bedroom. The door was wide  open and Hermione hesitated a moment before peeking inside. 

Harry was unconscious beside a small bassinet that was laid on the floor, his hand dangling over the side. Hermione carefully crept closer to get a look at the baby. 

“No need to be so quiet, Hermione,” Luna said, her serene voice shocking Hermione so much she almost screamed. “Harry won’t wake up. He’s exhausted. I have heard having a baby does that to a person.”

Hermione laughed, not believing it was Harry who had collapsed after the labor. A small gurgle sounded from the bassinet and Hermione slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Oh, really Hermione, I’m sure they don’t mind. Well, Ophelia might, but I don’t think Horatio will. He’s a quiet boy, really.”

Hermione froze, her hand still covering her mouth. What? Huh? Suddenly, she sprung forward, rushing the rest of the way towards the basinet and peering inside. 

Two small faces peered back at her. Both with their father’s dark hair but sporting their mother's gray eyes. Two babies.  _ Two _ . A boy and a girl from the sounds of it, though with Luna one never really knew. 

She reached down and caressed a cheek of each baby before turning back to Luna. She was sweaty, but she looked completely normal aside from that. Her messy hair and calm gaze. It was then that she noticed Andromeda sitting and smiling at Hermione’s awe. 

“Oh!” Hermoine exclaimed, remembering the reason she’d come. “I imagine Molly has Teddy then?”

Andromeda chucked, “No, dear. Teddy is with my nephew today. Harry dropped him this morning.”

“With Draco? Oh, well... You said since this morning. I suppose I should go get him then. He can stay with me tonight, Luna, since you lot need some rest.”

Luna  hmmed and watched as Hermione attempted to inconspicuously fix her hair.

“Well, if you’ll be staying with Draco, is it too much to ask Teddy stay with you, too? Only, as you said, I am a bit ragged.”

Hermione choked on her spit and Andromeda let out a bark of laughter before smothering it for the sake of Hermione.

“Beg your pardon, Luna?” Hermione asked carefully, knowing Luna wasn’t always the most aware of what she was saying. 

“Would you keep Teddy tonight? I’m sure you might seduce Draco once Teddy and Scorpius are asleep.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. Andromeda was nearly in tears as she held back her laughter.

“I am not trying to- Why on Earth- Luna, I meant that I would take Teddy to stay with me at my apartment, not Draco,” Hermione said, her face burning with  embarrassment .

“Oh, yes, but that’s not what you want. Really, I’m shocked you’ve gone this long without jumping one another.”

“Luna!”

“I have to agree with her, Hermione,” Andromeda said, leaning back in her chair and looking up at the girl. “You and that nephew of mine can’t seem to go a week without seeing one another nowadays.”

“Well, we’ve just become friends! And I like to spend time with Scorpius. And-”

“No need to explain yourself to me, dear,” Andromeda said. “But if I may give you a word of advice? You don’t need to become friends with someone before dating. You’re a  gryffindor . You’re allowed to jump in headfirst.”

Hermione huffed and walked out of the room, intending to flood to Malfoy’s to get Teddy and then head straight home. But just as she reached the mantel, she spun on her heel and stomped back to the room everyone was in and sat at the end of the bed. 

“You don’t understand, Andromeda. Nothing about this is easy.”

“What’s not easy?” Andromeda asked, determined to work through the issues for the happiness of her friend and her nephew.

Hermione looked at her like she was a dolt. “Our past, perchance?”

Andromeda nodded. “Yes, he was unforgivably awful to you.”

“Well,” Hermione side. “I wouldn’t say unforgivable. He was awful, no doubt, but he’s changed. He’s a better man than his father could have ever  been; then his father would have ever let Draco be if he’d had his way.”

“Well, what is it then?”

Hermione sighed.

Luna, her eyes fluttering closed, simply said, “There is a child  involved , Andromeda.” Her voice betrayed no fatigue, but her eyes  remained closed. Hermione couldn’t tell if she had fallen asleep or not. 

“Is she right, Hermione? Is it because he has Scorpius?” There was a harshness to Andromeda’s eyes when she asked the question.

Hermione’s shoulders slumped. “It is and it isn’t. I really like Draco. Truly. But I love Scorpius. I would never want to hurt him.”

“You would never hurt him, Hermione. You know that. We all do. We all have you with him. That boy adores you.”

“I  _ know, _ Andromeda. But what if I ask Draco out and he’s not interested and  all of a  sudden I’m not around anymore? Or what if, for some reason, he is interested, but we don’t work out? Then I have step out of Scorpius life. And I can’t do that. I know how that feels.”

At that, Andromeda stood from her chair and sat next to Hermione on the bed, placing an arm around the young woman’s shoulders. “What do you mean.”

“My parents. They won’t talk to me. When I restored their memories, they were so mad. So, so mad. They stopped talking to me and, well, I thought they’d come ‘round, you know?”

“But they didn’t?” Andromeda asked.

“No,” Hermione said, not realizing her tears had managed to break free. “No, they didn’t.”

“I’m sorry dear,” Andromeda had said. She’d had no idea. 

“ So do you see why I couldn’t put Scorpius in that situation now? I could never hurt a child like that.”

Andromeda ran a finger through Hermione’s hair the way she’d always done whenever Tonks was frustrated or upset. She began to plait her hair as she spoke. “Hermione, you’re such a smart girl, but there is one thing you have yet to learn – you stop people from loving you and you cannot stop yourself from loving them. Now you listen to me. Draco is a smartass. A self-assured, obnoxious, smartass. But do you believe he would ever her Scorpius?”

Hermione tried to shake her  head but Andromeda kept a firm hold on the braid. “No, he would never.”

“Then why do you think he’d stop you from seeing Scorpius when he  _ knows  _ how that would hurt him?”

Hermione sighed. “You’re right, but what does it matter? He’s him and I’m me! What are the chances he would feel that way for me?”

“What are the chances you would feel that way for him?” Luna’s calm voice asked. 

Well... the chances seemed very good indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I am SWEATY. I am STRESSED. And I am FALLING DOWN A RABBIT HOLE OF PRESSURE COOKER RECIPES. How are you? :^) 


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione had only been to Malfoy’s place a few times since their unconventional reacquaintance months prior, but he’d added her to his  floo list right away. She wasn’t fully sure why he’d done it, and she hadn’t wanted to seem  rude so she didn’t ask. She’d just been flattered and added him to her own  floo list as soon as she’d gotten home. As she stepped into the  floo at Luna and Harry’s, she felt a tingle go up her spine. She’d never actually  _ flooed _ __ to Malfoy’s place, and to  floo in without an  appointment seemed to intimate. 

_ ‘But it seems everyone knows that’s I want anyway,’  _ Hermione thought, her embarrassment turning to annoyance. It was one thing when Ginny was joking about it every chance she got. She could ignore that. Convince herself it was an absurd joke. Convince herself she wasn’t interested in her childhood bully.

Acting like it was a big joke became a bit more difficult when everyone in your life thought you were interested in the man. Hermione had barely even come to terms with the fact that she was interested in him. Now she had to  floo into his home. Great. Well, waiting longer wasn’t going to change anything, so Hermione grabbed a handful of  floo powder and threw it into the fire.

In moments she appeared in Malfoy’s  floo and was momentarily distracted by the lack of soot that followed. That didn’t last long as she was almost immediately dogpiled on by Scorpius and Teddy. She let herself be pulled from the fireplace and towards a sofa. Scorpius climbed into Hermione’s lap and Teddy kneeled on the cushion beside her, eyes wide with the news he knew she had. 

Hermione put her arms around Scorpius and turned her attention to Teddy. “Well, Teddy, you’ll be staying with me tonight, but tomorrow morning we can go and see everyone.”

Teddy grabbed her arm, eyes wide and hungry for more information. “What’s the baby’s name? Is it a boy or a girl? Do you think it’ll like me? Will I be allowed to hold it tomorrow?”

“Teddy, if you don’t take a moment to breathe between sentences, when can you expect your aunt to answer you? Draco spoke up from the lush armchair he’d been lounging in since her arrival, his chin propped up in his hand and his head tilted in amusement. 

Merlin, that man was handsome. She turned back to Teddy and readied herself for the big reveal. 

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out to really build Teddy’s interest. Scorpius had turned in her lap to listen to her as well, sensing what she had to say was going to be interested. “I think Luna and Harry will be happy to show you how to hold a baby tomorrow. Babies do take a bit of time to get to know you, but I can’t imagine anyone not liking you,” she said, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “As for whether it’s a boy or a girl, well... it seems Luna couldn’t decide, so she just had one of each.”

“TWO?” Teddy asked, his hair now rotating through the colors of the rainbow as it sometimes did when he was  really excited . “OH MAN! Why can’t we go now? What are their names?”

“It’s late now, so we have to let everyone get some sleep. Horatio and Ophelia will still be there tomorrow morning.”

Scorpius spoke up then, his forehead a little crinkled in confusion. He’d never heard of twins before. “If they were born at the same time, how do you know which one is which?”

“They look a lot alike, but they don’t look exactly alike. You could probably tell them apart if you squint, but I bet it will get easier as we get to know  them and they get older. 

That seemed to put him more at ease, so he simply said “cool” and leaned back into Hermione. 

Draco stood up, then. “I suppose they’ll need a second crib. I’ll shrink one down if you can bring it to them tomorrow.”

Hermione nodded that she  would and Teddy jumped up to follow Draco. “I want to help pick the crib. They’re basically my brother and sister, so I bet I know what they’d liked.”

Draco simply continued up t he stairs, walking slowly so Teddy could keep up. 

Hermione gave Scorpius a squeeze and he giggled sitting up and twisting to look at her. “How has your day been, Scor? Did you have fun with Teddy?”

Scorpius nodded. “I like having someone to play with. Teddy is so lucky. He gets  _ two  _ more people to play with!”

“He’s your family,  Scorp . You’ve got  family in him.”

Scorpius leaned against Hermione. “I guess. Do you have  brothers and sisters , Mione?”

She shook her head. “I was an only child, just like you."

She was smiling, but Scorpius sighed and leaned against her. “I want a brother. Or a sister! I wouldn’t be picky!”

Hermione was certain the little boy looked up at her then, his big eyes obscured by his long, pale lashes. Hermione felt like everyone was conspiring against her. The universe had lined them all up as dominos and they were finally ready to knock them over. The gods were playing pinochle and the winners would decide her fate. 

For the umpteenth time that week, she silently lamented her luck. Just a few months ago she’d been hesitant to even ask Malfoy for a favor, and nowadays most of her dreams centered around Draco Malfoy in his quidditch uniform.

Or potions master robes.

Or, just once, she’d dreamt he was a ballet dancer and they’d met in the lobby after she done her annual attendance of the nutcracker. 

And now, here was this man’s adorable son sitting in her lap, looking at her like she could give him what he wanted. She wondered briefly if Andromeda had accidentally influenced Scor’s thoughts. It was nerve wracking. Andromeda had told her to give Draco a chance. Luna had implied much the same. And she wanted to –  _ Merlin  _ she wanted to give dating him a shot. But how could one enter lightly into a relationship where a child was involved? The  what-ifs ricocheted from one side of her brain to the next. But then she remembered what  Andromeda’d said, the what-ifs stopped ricocheting and started merely bouncing. If she were very careful, they might crash into anything and cause irreparable damage. 

Scorpius had briefly left her lap to grab some of the drawings he’d made since they’d seen each other last. The drawings had been stuck all around the living room with what Hermione assumed were gentle sticking charms by how easily Scorpius pulled them down. They’d been placed at awkward intervals, just low enough that Scorpius could admire his own work and high enough that his father could as well with a bit of a squat. The room was decorated in tender tokens of affection – Father's Day cards, messy scribbles and stick figure drawings, photographs of their lives together, crafts they’d made together. 

The man who carefully preserved the little things that he and his son shared wouldn’t  enter into a relationship lightly, she was sure. She was almost certain he wouldn’t freeze her out, either. She had become close to Scorpius, and the  neuvo Malfoys were certainly and swiftly working their way into Hermione closest circle of friends.

Scorpius crawled back into her lap then and started eagerly gabbing about his different drawings. Hermione remembered sitting her mother’s lap and showing off her drawings and early school marks in the same way. Hermione pointed out what she liked about the drawings - “I like your use of circles here” and “I think the yellow and purple together look really cool here.” Scorpius beamed and preened under her praise and she smoothed his hair, brimming with affection herself. 

She had been so focused on hurting Scorpius and Draco and, to be  quite frank , herself that she hadn’t really allowed herself to think of how things would be if for once - just one time – everything went right. It was a pipe dream, but it was one she was willing to give it a chance. 

Teddy came barreling back down the steps, a shrunken crib clutched in his fist like a dollhouse accessory. Draco followed behind and leisurely lowered himself back into his armchair, watching as his son and his cousin’s son fought for the attention of the beautiful witch sat on his sofa. He wondered if he might try vying for her attention as well. She would reject him, no doubt, but he could be very persistent.

And very persuasive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets to be angsty next, don’t worry. 
> 
> Also, just ate my first enchilada ever while listening to WAP for the first time ever, so you could say I’m thriving. 


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione had quite made up her mind that she would pursue Draco. Carpe diem, et cetera, et cetera. Hermione could talk herself into something given enough time, but there was rarely a time when she could talk herself out of doing something once she’d decided on it. Harry’d fondly called it stubbornness. Her parents had told her it was her gift of determination.

Whatever it was, she was putting together a plan. She’d thought briefly of asking for Ginny’s help, but unfortunately, she had the gift of the gab, and Hermione saw her as a liability in this scenario. Besides, she’d made so many jokes about Hermione looking like she’d fit into the little Malfoy family unit, and Hermione couldn’t bring herself to admit that was exactly what she’d like after such adamant denials. She’d have to do it on her own.

Coming up with a plan was tough, though. Hermione’s dating history had been limited, and she’d never really had to be the pursuer. Viktor had asked her our and Ron had all but assumed they were together – and she’d let him. So she had to fall back on her books. She’d spent the weekend after the Potter twins were born lounging in her home reading a bunch of the cheap modern romances, she’d also looked down her nose at. Really they were quite good, and excellent research materials.

Everything indicated that she should be casually bumping into at places, and she’d felt decidedly accomplished in knowing that. She was ahead of the curve, as per usual. Many of the books also indicated an initial animosity between the love interests. Been there done that – for years, in fact!

The only thing they were really lacking was the titular turning point – the obvious moment of revelation. But how could one orchestrate their own denouement? Hermione created a vague outline of a plan in the same way she’d create strategic collection development plans for the archives. It took her a full month to finally settle on a solid list of goals – checkpoints to ensure she was moving in the right direction.

The first checkpoint: obtain compliments on her appearance.

Hermione generally hated it when people commented on her looks. She much preferred comments on her accomplishments. But that was because she wasn’t romantically interested in _people._ She was interested in Draco Malfoy, and she wanted him to think she was well fit. Besides, he’d complimented her work in the archives several times since their reacquaintance. He had even offered to reconnect her with his friend, Theodore Nott, who was working on teaching and improving magical conservation techniques.

Hermione had been a bit put out when he’d first suggested she meet up with Theo because she’d thought he was trying to set her up, but as Draco continued to tell her about Theo’s professional work, he mentioned Theo’s wife. Hermione had felt notably relieved when he’d mentioned it, and she hoped that her tension hadn't been evident to Draco.

Now, her first goal set and a goal deadline carefully selected for a generous month’s time, Hermione was eager to get started. The best part of a plan was seeing it carried out successfully, after all!

Although she’d decided to go to Ginny for – for lack of a better term – seduction advice, she decided asking the witch for a bit of help with her wardrobe couldn’t hurt.

“Shopping?” Ginny’d asked, amazed that Hermione was offering to undergo her least favorite past time. “You want to go _clothes_ shopping? Are you ill? Are you interviewing?”

“No and no. I’ve just realized it’s been a good while since I’ve spruced up my day-to-day wear is all. I’m looking positively year 2000.”

Ginny snorted. “Please, you act as if you haven’t been magically altering the same pair of jeans you've worn you were 16.”

“A good pair of denim, well taken care of needs no replacement,” Hermione said haughtily. A staple item was a staple item.

“Well, you’re getting some new staples today. Good Godric, I don’t like shopping either, and I still manage to go more than you.”

“Do you want to go, or not?”

Ginny sighed and nodded. They apparated to a point near muggle London, and as they walked arm in arm to one of their favorite shops, Ginny considered how best to broach the subject of Malfoy.

Really, she’d never expected Hermione to fall for Malfoy thanks to one tiny bit of payback, and she felt a bit guilty knowing that it’d been her silly whim that’d brought a whole whirlwind to her friend’s life.

Then again, she also felt Hermione might throw her a bit of a bone. Well, lucky for Ginny, Hermione was an organized genius who tacked a copy of her planner to her fridge for review.

“A Comprehensive Plan to Dating Draco Malfoy.”

Merlin. Geniuses really did the dumbest things.

Ginny was certain she was going to say something to Hermione while they shopped. All she wanted to do was let Hermione know that she understood what was going on and that she’d support this unexpected turn of emotional events.

But the way Hermione touched and turned each piece of clothing her hand told Ginny this was more intimate of an issue than she’d anticipated. Hermione scrutinized the quality and style of each piece of clothing she looked at, judging its potential service to her. Ginny gently steered Hermione in the direction she thought was more apt for the task at hand.

“Oh, that shirt with that pair of jeans you grabbed early would be so hot, but you could totally pair it with a skirt to make it business casual or maybe, like, casual date wear.”

Hermione perked up a bit and nodded, gently folding the garment into her shopping basket and then moved quickly over to the skirt rack to find something that matched.

_So obvious,_ Ginny thought.

Hermione couldn’t keep the pep out of her step, and Ginny felt the need to tease her rise. The only thing tamping that want down was the desire to see Hermione go on a damn date with a man that had at least the barest understanding of manners. Harry and Ginny and even the twins once or twice had gone out of their way to give Draco and Hermione the opportunity to run into each other since they’d rather hit it off after the babysitting excursion.

Ginny pulled a few skirts she knew Hermione wouldn’t normally consider and tossed them at her.

“First skirt’s flirty, second datey, third more casual.”

“Hmm.” Hermione found a mirror and held each against her waist, imagining what she could wear with each before tossing all three into the basket with a frustrated huff. “Whatever. I’ll just get them and figure it out once I get home.”

“Ah, frustration. A natural step in the shopping process.”

Hermione glared and threw an ugly hat at her friend. “Don’t you ever feel the need to just... just look nicer? And it feels like no matter what you put on, it just doesn’t look right?”

“Of course I do, Mione. Sometimes all you can do is tell yourself you look nice until you realize it’s true.”

“Fake it til you make it?” Hermione asked.

“Just so. But Mione, I promise those skirts will look positively stellar on you. And honestly, I could probably guess what Malfoy's gonna wear half the time anyway, so really you’ve a 50% chance of matching up with him if you listen to me.”

“Pardon?” Hermione asked, her voice at least a pitch higher than normal. Ginny recognized her mistake immediately.

There were two options: play it off or double down.

Well, no one ever called Ginevra Weasley a coward.

“I just think if you’re going to go the effort of bullet pointing a list of how to get Malfoy to fall all over himself for you pinning it to your fridge for review while your morning coffee brews, you’ll take the extra effort to listen to a woman who's had many a man – and woman for that matter!”

“I- uh,” Hermione stuttered a bit before finding her words. “It’s an outline, not a list!”

“What is the difference?” Ginny asked, incredulous that this was what Hermione had deemed worth commenting on.

“A list is a list. An outline leaves room for expansion and fleshing out. It’s a start – just a start!”

Ginny leaned lightly on top of a clothing rack in exasperation. “Whatever! Listen, putting aside the fact that you clearly didn’t tell me – your best bitch, might I add – I am going to be gracious enough to extend the subtle arts of womanly wiles.”

“You? Subtle?”

“Shut up. It’s just like quidditch: strategy, appropriate plays, on the fly saves, and finding their week spots.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Gin?” Hermione asked as she moved to get in the checkout queue.

“You’ve got some really cute points on your – uh – outline, but this is the real world which means you have to account for more than just you and him. Consider ”

They crept forward in line. “I’ve included Scorpius in my outline as well, Ginny. If I ever thought he’d be uncomfortable with Draco and I – um – becoming better friends, you know I wouldn’t pursue it.”

They were at the front of the line now and Ginny sighed and held her tongue while Hermione paid. As soon as they were out the door, Ginny stopped in front of Hermione. “I know you’d never do anything to hurt Malfoy’s kid, and honestly, I can’t imagine that kid objecting to you being around more. You are very smart, Hermione, but you are _not_ exactly a people person. You don’t really care to look far beyond your circle of friends and personal interests.”

Hermione felt her guard rise. She did too pay attention.

Ginny could tell Hermione was getting ready to shut her out of this particular topic again, so she rushed to finish her thought. “Malfoy is a famous quidditch player who is, loath as I am to admit it, a good player. Not to mention people seem to find him attractive,” Ginny said, feigning a gag.

Hermione swatted her arm and blushed. “I happen to be people in this scenario, Ginny.”

“Yes, well, nobody's perfect, I suppose. Not even you,” Ginny said. They’d started walking again, nowhere in particular. “My point is, quidditch groupies aren’t going to back off Malfoy just because you’re friends now. You’ve got to factor them into your game plan! You don’t create a quidditch play without accounting for a stray bludger or two, do you?”

Hermione realized what Ginny was trying to say, and she was embarrassed she’d not considered it herself. Draco was in the spotlight constantly. The last time she’d watched Scorp at one of the Canons’ games, Hermione had even noticed a group of men and women all clad in replica Malfoy jerseys who cheered wildly every time he’d played a particularly clever maneuver. Her stomach turned a bit. But she knew Draco. She wanted him for his snarky attitude and his quick wit. She wanted him despite their past and despite his weird love of the caramel hard candies she hated. And yes, his looks didn’t hurt either, but at least that wasn’t what her interest was grounded in. Surely he would know that.

“Well, I don’t see what that has to do with anything. All they’ve just as much right to like him as I do. Really, Ginny, we’re adults.”

“I’m not saying you should go putting puking pasties in their milkshakes or anything, but you could do something to just kind of send a message. Wear matching colors. Get caught speaking together before a game or leaving together after. Send a message! It’s psychotic something or other. Dean was telling me about it the other day.”

“Oh, it’s psychotic, alright! But I believe what Dean was talking to you about was psychology.”

“Well, whatever, the point is -”

“And since _when_ are you seeing Dean again?”

“ _The point is,_ ” Ginny stressed, “that you could at least make it clear you’re in the running, too.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and let Ginny pull her into a table at a random café. “Ridiculous, really, Ginny. I’m sure I’ll fair just fine with my outline.”

But even as she went on to ask Ginny about her recent excursions with Dean, Hermione couldn’t help but think that skirt Ginny had suggested really did seem to be one of Draco’s favorites. It was rather pretty, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all didn’t really think I was gonna have Ginny just not be a part of the hijinks, did you?  
> Sorry updates are dragging. I’ve worked myself into a dark Hermione mood, so writing fluff is ✨ odd ✨ Also I’m rereading the Twilight Saga because the pandemic overlords have deemed it time, and it’s torture. ALSO also, if you haven’t read A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik, please give it a shot. SO good, and it’s currently set to be a trilogy.


	11. Chapter 11

It wasn’t often that Draco Malfoy pulled his cards. They’d barely touched on it in divination – even Trelawney had dismissed the practice as more of a psychological practice than a magical practice – but it was a part of the Ministry dictated curriculum, so he’d at least had an introduction. 

Draco Malfoy quite liked tarot cards. As a juvenile, he’d found the practice of manipulating his friends through readings quite helpful: convincing Blaise to be more mischievous than usual, comforting Millie when her cousin was admitted to  Mungos , giving Pansy a love reading that outraged her so much she’d not spoken to him for a week – it was all very self-serving, sure, but he’d never lied. 

Today, however, he was pulling for himself, and you could very rarely manipulate an interpretation for yourself. You could lie to yourself and say they meant something else, but you would know. You can run from yourself, but you can’t hide.

He set his intention as he shuffled the cards, feeling his magic hum in his fingertips:  _ How do I move forward with Hermione? _

He chuckled as he placed three cards face down on his kitchen counter while his eggs sizzled. He remembered Hermione’s own aversion to anything divine in school, and he was nearly certain she’d feel he was being silly.

“What game are you playing, Dad?” Scorpius asked, not at all inconvenienced by his mouth full of cereal. 

“It’s not a game, Scor,” Draco said, moving to turn off the stove before motioning for Scorpius to stop eating for a moment and join him. When the little  boy’d come to stand by his father, Draco lifted him up and sat him on the counter beside the cards. 

“The cards are the same,” Scorpius said, his entire face pulling together in confusion.

“No, Scor, they’re face down. The backs are all the same but the fronts are different.”

“How do you know?”

Draco chuckled and flipped the first card, keeping his question in his mind.

_ What brings us together? _

IV of Pentacles. 

Stability.

Interesting. Stability wouldn’t have been the word he would use to describe the relationship between he and Granger. Then again, they  _ had _ been in one another's lives for over a decade. Perhaps that could at least be called consistent. Not to mention he knew now that he could depend on her in a pinch. He wondered if she knew she could depend on him, too.

“ Ohhh ,” Scorpius said at the pretty illustration, and Draco let him flip the next one.

_ What keeps us apart? _

V of Cups.

Loss, disappointment.

Scorpius sniffed at the image of the sad looking man and tried to hop from the counter, but his father caught him mid - air and lowered him gently to the ground. He hurried back to his cereal, suddenly worried it might become soggy.

This card was always a bit of a blow to receive. He’d tended to identify more with the sense of disappointment – being a disappointment, that is. Disappointing his father, his friends, his ancestors. Clearly , he was a disappointment to Astoria, or she’d not have left. That wasn’t so much a loss, though, as it was a disappointment to him. He’d not ached for her when she left, but for their son. Halfway through her pregnancy , she’d decided life as a Malfoy was not as ethereal as she’d imagined it growing up, and she wasn’t at all keen on being a mother either. 

So she’d left.

Draco was only grateful she’d left before Scorpius could ever know her and that she’d had the decency to quickly sign her parental rights over when he’d asked. 

No, Astoria wasn’t a loss. The loss he was afraid of was losing Hermione. That was always the fear, wasn’t it? That going after what he really wanted would only make the inevitable loss that much more pronounced on what remained of his soul. Would his asking her out ruin what friendship they’d built? Or would she agree only for it all to fall apart later?

Draco looked back at his son and was reminded that good things could happen to him. Regardless of what happened Hermione would still be around as a friend. He couldn’t doubt that. Maybe it would be awkward, but they’d get over it. 

Draco turned his attention back to the final card. He took a deep breath and then flipped it.

_ What will bring positive progress? _

STRENGTH

Balance, compassion, understanding... bravery.

Well.

Easier said than done. He might not be in school anymore, but house traits generally stuck with you. He couldn’t really say compassion, understanding, and bravery were among his talents. He suppressed a groan and pushed the cards back into the deck.

As he ate his well - burnt eggs, Draco determined rather begrudgingly that Hermione was probably worth learning a new skill or two. 

-

Although Draco had decided that he was going to have to buck up and pursue Hermione, he’d expected to have a bit of time to prepare a plan for how best to woo her. Instead, it seemed as if Hermione was there any time he went anywhere besides the pitch or his home. Had he not known his divination quite well, he might have thought he’d willed these run - ins into reality. 

He tried to convince himself that each meeting was an opportunity to put forward an effort, but every time he managed to get a flirtatious comment past the lump in his throat and over the knot in his  tongue, it seemed to fly over her head. It wouldn’t bother him so much if she’d just respond the tiniest bit – even if it was her cutting him off with a clear refusal. 

As it were, it was as if she hadn’t processed his flirtation at all. Two weeks of random encounters and both his best as worse lines, and she’d not done more than chuckle a little as if he were telling her a joke (which, really, the bad lines did warrant). 

He was getting to the point where he was wondering if she found him attractive at all. Perhaps he just wasn’t her type? That was a hard pill for him to swallow after so many years of being most peoples’ type, at least physically. 

He was beginning to spend an untenable amount of time in his closet, trying to figure out what he should wear just in case he bumped into her before giving up and throwing on a button - up and light blue sweater with some denims. He wasn’t planning on going out anyway. Scorpius had stayed with his nana the previous night and wasn’t due back until the afternoon, so Draco planned to simply lounge about, respond to some letters, and catch up on his reading. 

No risk of running into Hermione Granger.

So when his  floo alerted him to someone trying to come through he was a bit floored when the woman herself walked out of the green flames once he’d dropped his wards.

“Hermione, uh, hullo,” Draco said confused and more than a bit embarrassed to be caught at his leisure.

“Hello, Draco! You look quite relaxed. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your game?”

The quidditch season had just recently ended, so he wasn’t really following her.

Hermione, expecting the confusion, clarified: “The charity game. You asked me to watch Scor during the game?” 

Draco’s face scrunched up for a fraction of a second before he realized what she was talking about. “Oh, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong date. The charity game is next week.”

“Oh rats,” Hermione said, pulling her agenda from her bag, “I’m sure I put it down for today.”

She flipped to today’s date and offered the agenda to him, pointing at her little note annotating the game. It had pained her to write the date down incorrectly, but her plan necessitated it. 

Draco took her planner and frowned, fully aware of how seriously she took her schedule. “I must have given you the wrong date. I’m terribly sorry.”

Hermione took her agenda back then before he could flip to the next week and see she had the event scribbled under the correct date as well. “Oh, I’m sure it was just my brain being a bit muddled. Work has been a bit hectic.”

“Oh?” Draco inquired, moving back so she could walk further into his home. 

Hermione moved straight towards the couch and let her bag crash to the floor as she made herself comfortable on the cushions. “The cut off for submissions across several annually published journals is  coming up, so I'm afraid I’m being swamped with irate and sleep - deprived academics and researchers.” She looked back at Draco and squinted. “Are you wearing  _ glasses _ ?”

Draco stood still for a moment, confused, before quickly remembering his reading glasses and pulling them off. “Ah, yes, well... I just wear them for reading.”

“One too many  bludgers to the head mess with your sight, eh?” Hermione joked, wishing he’d put the glasses back on.

Draco slid the glasses into his pocket, “I’ll have you know, I’ve always been far - sighted. It’s what allows me to plan so well.”

“Very funny.”

“Why thank you,” Draco said, giving a little bow. “Tea?”

“Please,” she said, then quickly realized he’d never actually invited her in. “You don’t mind if I stay for a bit, do you? Only, I’d like a bit of company since I’ve not got any plans. And I’ve made all these biscuits I’d planned to share with Scor and the other kids.”

“You’re always welcome here, Hermione,” Draco said, letting a small silence stretch between them. Then, “Put the biscuits on the table, though. You don’t get tea for nothing.”

“Ha!” Hermione did as she was told. She’d made a double batch of the biscuit dough, too, so it’d be quite easy to remake the treats for the children the following week. Really, it was quite an efficient plan she’d come up with. 

When Draco returned to the living room, he’d managed to calm himself significantly. As he sat the mugs of tea on the coffee table, he noticed the long powder blue skirt Hermione was wearing and huffed a small laugh, startling Hermione.

“It would seem that we’re matching,” Draco said, indicating his own sweater that he was not quite glad he’d chosen. 

Hermione felt her cheeks heat a bit at his observation. “Seems so.”

“You look quite nice, by the way,” Draco said, sitting down across f ro m her.

“Thanks. Or are you just saying that because I’ve accid en tally dressed like you?” She joked.

Draco looked up from his task of sugaring his tea to ungodly proportions. “No. I’ve said it because it’s what I’m usually thinking, is all.”

“Ah,” Hermione said, looking down to her own mug of tea to hide her burning cheeks and pleased smile.

Well. That was  ‘ obtain a compliment ’ o f f her list , then .

_ And matching outfits, too,  _ she thought.  _ That will tickle Ginny, no doubt.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Happy New Year!" she said, fully aware that January is basically over. 
> 
> Draco is a divination ho, you cannot convince me otherwise.


	12. Chapter 12

If Hermione had known she’d tick the complement off her list, she’d have forced herself to recall at the second goal at the very least. As it were, she was nearly shaking with happiness and excitement and her brain was feeling a bit fuzzy around the edges. She was starting to understand why people enjoyed the whole dating scene. 

She fixed her tea just how she liked and motioned for Draco to take a biscuit, only to realized he’d already managed to grab one and dip it in his tea.

“As if your tea needs any more sugar,” Hermione said, bemused.

“No of course not,” Draco said, before biting off the saturated bit of the biscuit. “But I thought your biscuits might, what your parents being teeth healers and all.”

Hermione wiggled a bit in her seat, and her smile seemed to stiffen into some unnatural imitation of the real deal. “I am almost certain that you know they’re called dentists.”

“Have I said something to offend?” Draco asked, setting his half-eaten biscuit on the lid of the tin. He’d have cringed at his oversight of not bringing out saucers if he’d not been so worried he’d said something horribly wrong.

Hermione shook her head quickly, trying to calm him. “Not at all. I just don’t speak about my parents very often, is all. It’s always a bit of a shock when they’re brought up, and worse still when I’m not expecting it.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, ears burning slightly at his misstep. “I’d not known they were a topic to avoid.”

Hermione huffed a bit in what Draco thought might be an attempt at a laugh. “How were you to know if I’d not told you? No apology necessary, Draco. I mean it.”

Draco straightened from where he’d unwittingly leaned over the coffee table towards her. “Might I ask  _ why  _ it is that you don’t like speaking about them? If you’d feel comfortable sharing?”

Hermione sighed. Her plan had quickly been derailed into more serious terrain, but she supposed it was best to have this talk now that the topic was approached rather than have it loom between this as an uncomfortable sort of secret. 

She looked him in the eyes. “I am comfortable. Telling you, I mean.” 

He nodded, and she was certain that he understood what she was unsaid.  _ I trust you. _

“A  cuppa more, then?”

“Oh yes,” Hermione said, “If I run out mid soliloquy, it will really break my concentration. The tea is really necessary in setting the sad story mood.”

He paused where he was, just stood from his seat. He was afraid he’d said something wrong, yet again.

“Shoo,” Hermione said, glad to have a moment to get her thoughts together. When he came back and the two had sufficiently made up their drinks, she started again. “It’s really not a very long story.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not significant.”

“Yes, quite right, well,” Hermione hesitated a moment before jumping straight into the problem. “During the war, I removed my parents’ memories of me. Not only that, but I changed their memories of themselves – their names, their experiences, their home.”

Draco inhaled sharply, choking a bit on his tea. Hermione braced herself for his response. “Merlin, Hermione. Was it- was it not revers i ble?”

Hermione smiled a bit, comforted by his tender tone. “I was able to reverse it. But my parents were understandably upset at what I’d done. My dad, he’s forgiven me. It’s awkward between us, but he understands why I did it. Said he’d have done it to my gran and gramps if he were in my shoes.”

When Hermione didn’t continue after a few beats of silence, Draco prompted her. “And your mother?”

“Ah, my mother,” Hermione said savoring the warmth of the tea she’d managed to sip in their moment of silence.

“You know, I see what you mean about the tea being necessary to the ambiance. It really adds something.”

“Shush,” Hermione said, but she was smiling again. “Mum, well, she hasn’t forgiven me. She won’t speak to me at all if she can help it. She leaves when she knows I’ll be ‘round. She won’t even stop to yell at me. It’s obviously been a few years since I managed to reverse it, and she still won’t speak to me. Sometimes when I’m seeing my dad, he’ll say ‘Mum says to say hullo,’ but we both know he’s lying.”

Hermione took a deep breath in as if to continue speaking, but then she collapsed  o nto the couch, slumped and disappointed – in her mum and in herself for caring despite knowing what she’d done was right.

“I think I can understand your mother a bit,” said, reaching for another biscuit.

Without thinking, Hermione reached out and slapped his hand. “You think I was wrong, then?”

Draco pulled his hand back. This time he knew he’d said something uncomfortable, but he knew it wasn’t wrong. “No, Hermione, I don’t think you were wrong. I’m a parent, though, and I know if Scorpius did that to me, I’d be livid and petty and might even hold a grudge.”

Hermione winced a bit at the idea of sweet Scorpius ever having to make a life - altering decision based on war wrought terror. “But you would  _ understand,  _ Draco. I can’t imagine you could really stay angry at him. Get angry? Sure. But stay angry?”

“It’s not just anger, though, Hermione. And it’s not just directed outwards. I can’t speak for your mother, but I know I would feel absolutely disgusted with myself if I, as a parent, failed to protect my son from a situation warranting that decision. As a parent, my one job is to protect my son. Quidditch is merely a paid hobby. It is Scorpius above all, and to fail to protect him...” Draco trailed off, clearly distraught at the thought.

Rather than respond, Hermione continued to sip on her tea. She tried to imagine Scorpius in the same position she had been in just a few years prior. The idea of  _ any  _ child being in that position was horribly upsetting but to imagine Scorpius in it was especially distressing. She became slightly nauseous at the  thought. She knew how much Draco loved Scorpius – how much  _ she  _ loved Scorpius – and she struggled to even imagine a world in which he would feel like he had to brave the atrocities she did alone.

Ah.

Hermione stood abruptly and handed her mug to the still seated Draco. “Forgive me, Draco, but I think I must run. This isn’t at all how I planned for this to go, but it’s been quite what I needed.”

She gathered her things and quickly moved for the  floo before turning on her heel and heading back to Draco and placing a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. And  _ don’t  _ eat all the cookies before Scorpius gets back!”

With that, she headed back to the  floo and this time did not hesitate to return to her own apartment. 

Draco sat, a mug in each hand and a half-eaten biscuit hanging from his lip, dazed for several minutes. Truly, Hermione was a tornado of ideas and action, and although Draco adored it, he did wish she might be a bit clearer with what she thought. Perhaps she might treat him like those slow friends of hers occasionally. He might be able to make a fairly good guess at where she was going, but that didn’t mean he could understand her completely. Was it too much to tell a bloke what a kiss on the cheek meant? And what exactly had she planned on discussing when she’d not intended to be there in the first place?

He sighed, popped the lid on the biscuit tin, and waited for Scorpius to return.


	13. Chapter 13

When Hermione arrived at her parents’ home in Nottingham, she wondered briefly if she should have called first. Then she remembered that her mother did not stick around when Hermione called and was glad she hadn’t. It was Saturday, so the clinic was closed, and Hermione knew her mum would be reading her Journal of Endodontics with a mug of chicory root coffee in place of actual coffee because coffee was far too caffeinated in her opinion, thank you very much!

Hermione rang the bell quickly before she could lose her nerve. 

When her father opened the door a half-minute later, his shock was apparent. He didn’t greet her so much as stare. She’d not returned home without warning since before, well, everything. 

“Is Mum inside?” Hermione asked softly as to not give her mum reason to run out the back door and hop the fence into the neighbors’ garden. 

Hermione watched as her father’s face softened in understanding. Wrinkles carved into his face and made him look old. He looked tired, but he smiled. “In the study, Love.”

She followed him inside, leaving her shoes on despite house rules. It was a habit of hers. Always be ready to run. Her father turned into the kitchen, letting Hermione find her way to the study. There she found her mother, Helena Granger sat on the floor and hunched over the coffee table rather than her perfectly good desk. 

Hermione knocked on the door jamb and her mother looked up, no doubt expecting to see Hermione’s father. Hermione saw it then, as the surprise abated – the hurt and anger and betrayal. 

“Can I sit with you?” Hermione asked. Helena didn’t respond, so Hermione simply moved to sit across from her. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

“So you’ve said,” her mother responded, turning her face back down towards her journal. 

“This is different.”

“How so?” She still wouldn’t look at her.

Hermione reached across the table and touched her arm. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you for help when I knew there was no avoiding the war – when I knew I’d have to leave.”

Helena’s hand clenched into a fist underneath hers and Hermione could see her mother clenching her jaw. Hermione thought she might be holding back tears, but she couldn’t be certain with her own tears blurring out her vision.

“I was an adult in the wizarding world, but I didn’t stop to consider that I was still your child – that I could still rely on you and Dad.”

“We were so worried about you, Hermione. Every day since you went to that school, we were worried. You were so far away, and all we wanted to do was protect you, to listen to you tell us about your day, or to help you with your homework like we used to.”

“I know, mum. I know that.”

Mrs. Granger grabbed Hermione’s hand suddenly. “Then why? Why did you not believe that your father and I would do anything –  _ anything  _ – to protect you? Why did you erase our memories? In what world would living without our child be better than dying, Hermione?”

Hermione tried to respond, but she was crying so heavily that all she could manage was deep and unsteady breaths.

“You might have taken our memory of you from us, but the heart doesn’t forget. When  _ Monica Wilkins _ saw a mother with her child, she knew that she was missing something. She looked for something that wasn’t there.”

“I wanted to – to protect you,” Hermione stuttered out. “I knew you couldn’t fight against magic, and I – I knew I couldn’t fight if somehow they got to you. I’m so sorry, Mum.”

Helena suddenly let go of her and left the table, and Hermione was sure she’d screwed things up. She’d been certain she’d understood her mother after speaking to Draco, but she’d clearly not figured out how to make amends. It took everything in her not to make a sound as she cried – not to curl in on herself  apparate straight home where she could lie in bed with all the lights turned off and ignore her responsibilities until Monday morning.

Then her mother was kneeling beside her. In her fists was a hankie Hermione had sloppily embroidered for her in a home economics class when she was small. Hermione thought for a moment that her mum was offering it to her, but then the rough cotton was wiping softly across her face. Her mother wiped her tears and snot and then folded the hankie and wipe again until Hermione finally stopped crying. 

The two women sat still, looking at one another for the first time in a long time. Eventually, Hermione’s father came in with a tea tray and set it on the table. Instead of sitting on the other side of the table, he squeezed into the space beside his wife and daughter. They jostled sho u lders as they made up their teas. Despite how much tea she’d had at Draco’s home, she made up a good cup. Nothing soothed the soul better than a cup of tea and a good cry, her mum had told her when she was little. 

Slowly they began to talk, sharing little bits of their life. Her parents had been glad to learn that she was still close to Harry, and they told her to carry their congratulations to him. She shared bits and pieces about her work, and they did the same. Hermione was surprised to learn that her parents had hired on new dentists and were in the process of deciding if they should sell the practice or keep it running for a passive income. 

It was then that Hermione realized it wasn’t only her father who had aged – it was her mother, too. They looked older than they were, and although Hermione had never imagined her parents the type that would retire early, she could tell it was what they needed. 

It was dark out by the time Hermione finally decided it was time for her to go. She had stayed through dinner and had talked with her parents about things she didn’t even know she’d wanted to tell them. At the door, Helena hesitated a moment before pulling her in for a hug. 

“Next time you come we’ll get Indian food from that place two blocks down, hmm?”

Hermione nodded and then hugged her father goodbye as well. Hermione lingered on the porch awkwardly for a moment, afraid that if she left everything would go back to the way it had been before. 

Hermione suspected her mum had felt the same way because she called Hermione a couple of days late r to schedule their Indian food night. They ended up agreeing to meet at the Granger house on Friday evening while Mr. Granger went out to the pub with some friends and colleagues. 

When Hermion e arrived at the house, her favorite saag paneer was on the table with a big container of rice and another container of whatever her mum was trying out this time. 

They had an awkward start of it. This was unsurprising as they’d both know there was no cure, not even magical, for swiftly fixing a fractured relationship. It was uncomfortable but doable. They puttered and stumbled over topics of discussion, doing their best to keep the conversation going.  Hermione’d gone through the same thing with her dad long ago and they were doing pretty alright now. 

It was natural that they would hit some awkward topics, but Hermione hadn’t expected it to get much worse than accidentally calling out her mother on poorly covering her grays. Then again, she should have planned to have to address the issue sooner rather than later.

“How has Ron been?”

Hermione choked on a piece of naan. 

“Oh,” her mum said. 

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “He was unfaithful.”

“Oh!”

“So I left.”

Her mum set her fork down and folded her hands under her chin. “I’m sorry that happened to you, sweetie, but you did the right thing.”

Hermione nodded – there wasn’t really anything to say to that besides duh – and went back to eating, but Helena didn’t pick her fork up again. After several silent moments, Hermione set her fork back down, sensing their serious tone wasn’t quite done. 

“Mum, what’s on your mind?”

“Hermione, I’m - I’m glad you  c ame to talk to me like you did about, well, everything. I just can’t help wondering what it was that helped you understand what I was too petty to say.”

“Mum!” Hermione said. “You weren’t petty! You were upset!”

Her mother sniffed, trying to hide her teary eyes with a false cold. “All the same, I should have told you how I was feeling. I should have tried to make you understand.”

“You were too close to the situation, Mum,” Hermione said. “No one thinks clearly when they’re close to the situation. Not even us.”

“All the same, I can’t help but wonder how you came to be so, well, so mature.”

Hermione sighed. “I wish I could just say it was just time – that it was inevitable I’d come to understand eventually – but honestly it took a friend of mine explaining his perspective as a parent to me. I’d never  really factored your feelings of being a mum and all into how I looked at it. I was dead set on protecting you from the dangers that my being magic brought on you.”

“Was it Harry that I’ve to thank for helping us back to each other, then, with his newfound fatherhood?”

Hermione blushed and tried to look anywhere but her mother’s face. “Not Harry, no. A new friend.”

“Oh?” Hermione’s mum asked, waiting for her to continue. She knew better than to press her daughter for information that might be embarrassing to her. 

“Yes, well,” Hermione was fiddling with her napkin now, “Do you remember me ever mentioning Draco Malfoy?”

Helena huffed. “The little bully who made your cry and rage in equal measures during your first few years at Hogwarts? Hard to forget.”

“He’s really not that bad anymore. We’ve all had to grow up after what we went through,” she said.

“And he’s the friend with a child, then? I hope his child isn’t anything like he was as a boy.”

Hermione shook her head. “Not at all. Scorpius is such a sweet boy, truly! And he’s so smart. Sometimes when Draco is playing a game – he's a professional quidditch player now, you see! Anyway, a lot of the time I’ll watch Scorpius during the game. We read together or color or just chat. I even bring my mp3 player and a headphone splitter so we can listen to all the classic show tunes!”

Her mother laughed then. “Hermione, what child likes show tunes?”

“ _ I _ did! And Scor does, too. Even Draco lingers when I’ve got the tele set to Turner Classic Movies.”

“You enjoyed making your father laugh with your  little performances.” 

“Well, I don’t  _ force _ Scorp to watch them with me, you know!”

“So then,” Helena said, trying for nonchalance, “Draco is a friend your father and I should get used to hearing about.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I quite intend to keep him around. He can still be rather self-assured, but he really is a big softie at heart.”

“Just be careful dear. You were with Ron for a long time, and I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping here, but I just want you to be sure you aren’t hopping into a new... friendship too quickly.”

Hermione blushed again. “That obvious then?”

“A bit, yes.”

“It’s been over a year since Ron and I split, Mum. And I think all the risk I’ve more or less been forced to take in my life for the sake of others, maybe this once I should take a risk just for me.”

Helena sighed, but she trusted her daughter. “Then it’s a serious relationship?”

“Mum, he’s just a friend,” Hermione said, picking her fork up again a spearing a piece of chicken to punctuate the end of the discussion before adding, “But yes, I intend for it to be a serious relationship.”


	14. Chapter 14

After reuniting with her mum, Hermione was sort of on a high of facing things head - on. On the morning of the quidditch charity match, Hermione read through her romancing outline (which she’d lovingly dubbed the Malfoy Ploy). It suddenly appeared quite long to her. She wondered if the middle bits really mattered so much. Honestly, she found those bits the most boring. She preferred the back story and thrilling finale. She lived her life in meticulous details and it was exhausting. Don’t get her wrong, the payoff was great. She loved her job and was pretty content with her life. 

But she hadn’t had a plan when she went to speak with her mum. Not even the slightest. Not even one of her late nights, wide awake and imagining the best and worst scenarios could have prepared her for her mother’s hesitant acceptance. All she’d had then w ere the words of Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy.

Perhaps she was overdue to skip a few steps every now and then. They’d done the chance encounters. Blasé at best. He’d complimented her appearance just a week ago. Very satisfying, but there’d be plenty of time after. 

As she sipped her coffee, she ticked off items that she didn’t feel were really that important. Hermione and Draco were not characters in some story, after all. They were people with flaws, and Hermione’s flaw was her less than patient personality. She didn’t usually see the need to wait. She hadn't pursued politics for that  _ exact  _ reason. As someone not professionally in politics, she could lend her support as freely and as aggressively as she wished.

Perhaps it was time to pursue Draco Malfoy in the same way. Her head was foggy from her happiness from the previous night's overall success of a dinner with her mum, so she didn’t feel the need to think about it too much. Anyway, it was nearly time to go grab Scor from his father, and when she’d realized that she was too busy forcing her hair into submission and even tapping on a little bit of makeup to really reason through any vague plan that might form otherwise.

She  flooed over to Draco’s place with another tin of biscuits among her things. As soon as the flames died down, Scorpius was upon her, expecting to be picked up. When  Hermione’d situated the boy on her hip, she turned to greet Narci s sa. The handoff of Scorpius was common between them on days when Narci s sa couldn’t watch Scor during the game and  Hermione’d had plans preventing her from watching him for the hour or so before the game.

It was a perfectly cordial passing of the tot. Sometimes they even had a  cuppa together. Today was different, however.

“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Hello, Hermione, dear. As always, I must ask you to call me Narcissa.”

Hermione bowed her head a bit in acknowledgment. “Of course. Old habits and all that.”

Narcissa waved a hand to dismiss the subject and moved back to the tea table. “Are you quite excited for the charity game today?”

Hermione sat at the table and moved Scorpius, who was patiently-impatiently waiting for the adult small talk to end so he could tell Hermione everything she’d missed since they’d seen each other last (Over a week ago! There was so much to say and hardly any time to say it!). 

“Yes, um, quite,” Hermione said, carefully preparing her tea and then levitating Scorpiu s' s tiny milk-tea next to her so he could reach it. 

Instead of the usual handoff, Hermione and Scorpius would be heading to the game  _ with  _ Narcissa. After all, Narcissa and Hermione were both very involved with charities, espe ci ally in the realm of fundraising. They’d even made an excellent team on more than one occasion, both silently coming to the agreement that Narcissa would take the  boujier crowd and  Hermione’d take the more ‘common’ folk, so to speak. 

Today, they would not simply be rubbing shoulders in passing. No, they would be sitting side-by-side in the bleachers for however many hours the participating quidditch teams chose to drag this game out. The proceeds from the ticket sales would go towards the Foundation for Research of Cross-Magical-Species Illnesses in addition to whatever larger donations the more well-to-do attendees felt inclined to contribute. On top of it all, the press from the event would draw more attention to the cause. 

“I’ve baked biscuits for all of us to share during the game,” Hermione said, hoping to not let the conversation drop off awkwardly.

Narcissa’s eyes spark l ed more than Hermione had expected. “Oh? Well, Draco told me about the lovely biscuits you brought by last weekend. I must admit, I was quite jealous to hear their praises only to find our boys hadn’t saved me a crumb.”

Scorpius cut in, recognizing the topic was something he could speak on. “Dad let me have  _ two _ cookies when I got home from Nana’s, and then he and I got to split one every night until we ran out!”

The women  oooed , falsely impressed by the number of sweets he’d been allowed this week. With that, all adult conversation ceased, and Scorpius was  _ finally _ allowed to regale Hermione with his news, his nana supporting many of his stories with the finer details that often escaped a child.

Hermione felt at ease listening to Scorpius fill her in on everything she’d missed. She commended him on having eaten all his broccoli despite not liking it and then nuzzled his head to commiserate with his difficulties in picking the perfect crayon color for the drawing he had made for his nana’s sitting room. Scorpius only stopped speaking for very brief moments to focus on carefully lifting his cup of tea with both of his tiny hands and take a big sip. 

It was on one such moment that Narcissa very quickly interjected with the exciting news that her grandson was so clearly forgetting to tell Hermione despite having told her all that morning that he was going to blurt it out as soon as Hermione arrived. 

“Scorpius, might you wish to tell Hermione what happened last night when your father was putting you to bed?”

Scorpius pulled the cup away from his face, a bit of tea dribbling down his chin, and gasped in excitement. He put his cup back on the table and then looked up at Hermione’s face with wide, proud eyes. 

“I did  _ magic _ .”

Hermione was silent a moment before she gasped in understanding. She squeezed the sweet boy to her,  kissed him on his forehead, and then gently pushed him away so she could look at his face. 

“Brilliant! Scorpius, you are an absolutely brilliant boy! Do you know that?”

Scorpius smiled so big his face hurt. “Dad said so, too!”

“What magic did you do, then?” 

At this Scorpius giggled, covering his mouth and glancing at his nana. Narcissa, who had been watching the interaction between Hermione and Scorpius with interest and infection, smiled softly and winked at the boy. 

Scorpius leaned over to whisper what he’d done in Hermione’s ear, despite his nana already knowing. “Dad was reading me a story about a princess, only she doesn’t know she’s a princess, and there was a gown that was supposed to be pink or blue, but the fairies couldn’t decide. I don’t remember why the fairies were making the dress, but they kept changing it. And then! And then! Mione, I closed my eyes to imagine what it would look like for clothes to just change colors back and forth, and then Dad hugged me and I opened my eyes and – and Dad’s pajamas were changing colors, Mione! Pink and blue!”

He’d forgotten he was meant to be whispering about halfway through telling his story and had pulled back to add wild gesture s to his story. Hermione listened with bated breath. She wanted to know every detail of what had happened. She couldn’t believe Scorpius had done his first bit of accidental magic. Had she been so young when she had? Or was he simply growing up before her very eyes?

She blinked away the sudden tears that had sprung to her eyes and tickled Scorpius’ sides. “Brilliant,  _ brilliant  _ boy!”

Narcissa sipped her tea silently, happy with what she’d seen. She’d not had much to doubt about Hermione. She’d interacted with her in passing many times, and she knew both Draco and Scorpius praised her. However, as a woman who had herself been victim to and become a meddling mother, she could not suppress the need to verify her care for her boys – their boys now, she supposed. She had seen Astoria, a girl Narcissa had so believed to be the perfect option of  a  society wife, abandon a husband and infant without hesitation. 

As such, Narcissa was reasonably cautious when she’d heard that Hermione Granger had become somewhat of a fixture in her family’s life. She began reworking her schedule to ensure she could watch Scorpius on the days when Hermione would be watching him during Draco’s afternoon game. The girl’s affection for her grandson was easy to see, and if she’d had even a lingering doubt about that, today’s display of affection would have snuffed it out. 

Unfortunately, Narcissa has not had the chance to witness Hermione and Draco together. That wouldn’t stop Narcissa Malfoy from achieving her goal, however. Hermione may be enamored with Scorpius, but that did not mean she was romantically inclined towards Draco. 

To better judge the situation, Narcissa had decided to organize ‘an intimate gathering’ of a couple dozen: players, investors, and friends. The party would take place several hours after the game to allow for everyone to recharge and ready themselves for the gathering. Hermoine, though she was not a fan of parties, agreed that it would be an excellent opportunity to squeeze donors for extra galleons. Together through (exhausted) owls, they had managed to organize what was sure to be a lovely (and financially charitable, of course.)

That, however, was hours away. Narcissa, although loathe to disrupt her grandson’s valued time with ‘his Mione,’ idly acknowledge the time. This was sufficient to propel Hermione to her feet, Scorpius quickly swung back to her hip. 

As she awkwardly gathered her belongings, Hermione exclaimed, “Oh goodness! We must get going! The stadium is always so busy, and we’ll want some time to get situated.”

“A most excellent point, my dear. Shall I take your bag, since you are carrying Scorpius?”

Hermione shook her head and explained her modified featherlight charm to the, although she expressed her thanks all the same. 

And with that, the little group was off. 


	15. Chapter 15

When they arrived at the stadium, it took them very little time at all to get through the crowded security and to find their seats. Hermione and Scorpius had practically mastered the process and Narcissa was too regal to ever appear unaware of anything. Disinterested? Sure. Unaware? Certainly not. No, the only time Narcissa appeared unaware of something was when she was fully aware and intent on keeping a secret.

Hermione had expected Narcissa to insist on sitting in one of the private boxes when they had decided to attend together, but she had surprised her by plainly stating those were to be priced up remarkably for those richer sorts who weren't keen on donating for the sake of charity but would pay outrageous amounts to see another quidditch game. As such, they were seated in the stands, high enough to see where the bulk of the action would take place.

Hermione had been careful to coordinate their seats with the Weasleys and Potters as she always did when they would be attending the same games. Scorpius and Teddy adored each other, and they found it easy enough to include Victoire in their games and conversations whenever they were all together. It was Scorpius who spotted the Weasleys approaching first, as he had been eagerly watching for them from atop Hermione's shoulders.

"Vic!" He shouted, waving his arms frantically to get her attention. The Weasley family returned the wave and continued their leisurely tread to their seats, save for Victoire who yanked her hand from her father's grasp and darted quickly towards her friend. Scorpius, once set back down, met her halfway and the two started chatting as if it hadn't been a month since they'd last seen each other.

Hermione smiled as she watched the two walk back towards their seats, hands swinging together in large arcs. From what Draco had told her, Scorpius had never really been exposed to other children, and her heart warmed to see how naturally he took to friendships.

Narcissa gently set a delicate hand on Hermione's forearm, but when she turned to look at the older woman, Narcissa was gazing at Scorpius. "He will live a happier life."

Hermione did not ask what she meant by happier. It wasn't hard to guess. Narcissa's eyes were almost unfocused. It was as if she was watching a version of Draco she would never get to see, and that broke her heart despite her happiness for her grandson. Hermione gave Narcissa's hand a little squeeze in acknowledgment of her emotions – her approval of Hermione's extended family and their influence on the littlest Malfoy. It was weird, Hermione wasn't totally sure that it was the right thing to do, but she felt ignoring it would be a mistake.

The kids, walking fast, reached the two seated adults before the rest of the Weasleys.

Scorpius stretched out his arms as if presenting a queen. "This is my nana, Victoire. Nana, this is my friend Victoire."

Narcissa reached out to gently shake the little girl's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Victoire. Your name is lovely."

Victoire blushed and thanked the regal woman. She thought she looked just like what she'd imagined her grandmėre might look like if she had lived to see her born. Victoire immediately liked the woman.

"Would you do my hair like yours, Scorpius's Nana?"

The Weasleys were close then, and Fleur rushed forward and tutted at her daughter. "You cannot ask someone you 'ave just met to do your hair, ma chérie."

Narcissa leaned forward and inclined her head a bit as if a sign of humility.

"If you wouldn't mind," she said, "I haven't had the privilege of doing another girl's hair since I was a girl myself."

Fleur, appearing less composed than she usually was, nodded her ascent gratefully. She usually took painstaking care when doing her daughter's hair, but the early stages of her second pregnancy were wearing on her, and even her own appearance, though breathtaking, would appear haggard to those who knew her well. Narcissa gently undid the messy plaits in Victoire's hair and moved them into a plaited crown.

The Weasleys only took a moment to stare in awkward and awed silence as Narcissa worked on the girl's hair before they began to settle into their spots on the bleachers. Draco and Scorpius had become fixtures in the Weasley events as of recent, that they couldn't find it in themselves to spend a great deal of energy on being shocked.

After setting her many bags down, Molly reached her arms out towards Scorpius, and the boy eagerly fell into the warm hug. She fussed and fretted over him and he giggled at her little jokes.

Hermione was struck again with the surreal realization that she was constantly steeped in the experience of love – quite literally sandwiched in it! When Scorpius came back to gently rest his hand on her knee – one of the ways he showed his gentle affection – she couldn't help but pull him into a crushing hug. She rocked him back and forth and kissed his face as he shrieked and laughed with joy.

Scorpius wriggled and writhed as he laughed, but he threw his arms around Hermione's neck, happy for the cuddles. He was only ever happier when him and his dad and his Hermione were all together at Hermione's flat with cocoa and spaghetti. Sometimes he would fall asleep in Mione's arms or cuddled up to her side, and he would only wake up when she handed him over to his Dad to go home. He hated flooing home, especially when he was trying to sleep. It'd be so much easier if they could all just stay in one place.

He swung his head to the side, still laughing, and then popped up in Hermione's lap.

"Teddy!" he shouted, leaping out of Hermione's arms and running towards his friend.

Hermione sighed at her suddenly empty arms and watched as Scorpius told Teddy – and by proximity, Harry and Luna – about his bout of accidental magic. Hearing her sigh, Molly rubbed her arm comfortingly.

"Oh, you act as if he won't be tuckered out in your lap in an hour or so, cuddled up with his Mione."

From Hermione's other side, Narcissa spoke up. "It's lovely to see him having so much fun with other children. It's lovely of you all to include him, Mrs. Weasley."

Molly heard the soft adoration of a grandmother for her grandchild, and she knew this was not the Narcissa they had imagined before and during the war. Perhaps they'd had an inkling after she'd lied to Voldemort to save her son, but this was different. This was unbridled adoration accompanied by a fierce protectiveness that comes to those who have seen too many things and made too many mistakes. Molly knew this was a witch who wanted to help her family thrive. She could be trusted.

Molly reached across Hermione's lap and gently patted Narcissa's arm. "Scorpius is such fun to have around. He's practically part of our family, you know! Just another of the grandkids."

As she said the word grandkids, Molly gave Hermione a not-so-subtle nudge. Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes, attempting to shrink away from the embarrassment she felt. She had always thought the way Molly lovingly and unintentionally embarrassed her children was amusing before she'd ended up on the receiving end of it.

Had she not taken that moment to compose herself, Hermione might have seen the satisfied smirk Narcissa briefly let grace her face, or the conspiratorial look the two grandmothers shared as a silent pact was made between them.

But Hermione's eyes were closed, and she didn't see this strange alliance being made. In fact, her eyes were still closed when Narcissa gently said, "It is so lovely to know he has such a large extended family to rely on, Mrs. Weasley. It is truly a comfort."

"Oh please," Molly said with a laugh, "Call me Molly, please! And we're so happy to have Scorpius around. He's such a joy! Everyone loves him and he loves everyone. Of course, there's no one among us he loves so much as he loves Hermione."

At that, Hermione opened her eyes and rejoined that conversation. "Now, that's not true Molly. He adores you all."

"I can see he adores the whole family," Narcissa said, then, "but he's close to you in a special way, dear. And Draco, too, of course."

Narcissa gently patted Hermione's hand. Hermione, having picked up on the woman's many quirks from their time spent in proximity to one another at different fundraising events, knew that touching was generally not something she would deign to do past the requisite greetings.

If she wasn't already embarrassed, she'd certainly be by now. Everyone knew. _Everyone_ knew how she felt about Draco and Scor. _Everyone_ knew she thought of them as her own family even when she had been too scared to admit it to herself. Narcissa Malfoy of all people was dropping hints!

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, attempting to battle off a headache. _This was good,_ she told herself, even if she didn't quite feel it. Her friends – her _family –_ approved. As did Draco's only living family. This was _good_. And yet Hermione felt at that exact moment that she'd rather have to face some pushback _after_ they'd gotten together rather than before. It would be much easier to convince them to accept their relationship after the fact than it would be to deal with their cloying nudges.

She decided it was best to extricate herself from the situation and moved to sit with the younger crowd. Ginny might know about her feelings for Draco, but she had enough sense of self-preservation to keep from bringing up her interest in Draco in front of other people. Well, at least in any obvious manner.

Harry looked relieved when Hermione came over, and he quickly placed little Horatio in her arms.

"I thought my arms were gonna fall off! For someone so small, a baby really is heavy after a while."

Ginny scoffed, "You and your weak muscles. One of us could have held him, you know." She made an exaggerated gesture to point out the many Weasleys surrounding them.

"Yeah, like I'd trust you lot to hold my kid! Who knows what you'd teach him!"

At that, Fred chimed in. "What could we _possibly_ teach an ickle wittle baby, Harry-kins?"

"Something in the way you've said that makes me certain I've made the right choice. You definitely have something planned."

Although Hermione was always happy to cuddle a baby, she couldn't help but chime in. "Why not get a wrap like Luna's, then?"

Baby Ophelia was snuggly strapped to Luna's chest with a colorful fabric wrap. At Hermione's question, Luna's tinkering and calming laugh awoke Ophelia who, upon realizing she was still strapped to her mother, let her head fall back down and fell back asleep.

"Harry is having a bit of trouble with the wrap," Luna said, smiling at the man in question. "He's been practicing with a pillow, but he can't quite get it to work."

Harry scratched the back of his head. "I think I might just have to get one of those baby backpacks at this point. I feel like I'm less likely to mess that up."

"Just make sure you do all the straps and clips correctly, yeah?" Hermione teased.

"Ugh!" Harry exclaimed. "Maybe arms is the best way after all."

An exasperated Harry accepted a butterbeer from the twins and settled on to the bleachers with his friends. Luna opted to stand, swaying back and forth with her daughter. They chattered a bit as the bleachers continued to fill, and the children moved back towards their section. Having worked up an appetite from all their jumping and pretending, Molly quickly set to handing out snacks to the kids while Narcissa passed out little mugs of juice, tea, or water with an anti-spill, anti-shatter charm attached.

Scorpius sat down and ate his snacks with his friends and Nana before picking up his mug and walking hurriedly to Hermione. He sat next to her, settled his drink in his lap, and leaned on Hermione's arm to look at the baby. Scorpius had seen the babies a few times since their birth and despite his initial eagerness to see the babies, he quickly became nervous when he got close to them. He was fascinated, though. Despite turning down the opportunity to hold one of the babies or to touch their little hands, he loved to peer down at them.

He'd never say it out loud with how cute all the adults said they were, but he thought they looked like wrinkly old bald men. The baby dolls in the stores never had all those weird wrinkles. Part of him wanted to hold one of the babies – the adults had said they could, and Mione said he wouldn't hurt them, and he trusted Mione. Still, he was scared to touch the babies.

Now, looking at the baby in Mione's arms, he wondered if he was ever that small. Mione said he was once, even though she didn't know him then. He imagined his Dad would have held him that way, but he was sad thinking that his Mum hadn't wanted to hold him. Just as he was starting to feel sad, Hermione reached her arm around his shoulders and hugged him closer to her side.

Scorpius cuddled into her side again. The players were being announced just then, but Scorpius didn't care to look to the pitch. At that moment, being held by Mione was more important to Scorpius than seeing his dad fly out for the billionth zillionth time. He thought being held by Mione had to be way better than being held by his mum. Unless Mione was his mum, though. That would be way better. Teddy had said that one of the boys in his primary school got a new dad when his mum got married, so Scor was pretty sure his dad could get him a mum the same way. And Hermione wasn't anyone's mum, so she could be his! She loved him! She'd told him so. And he loved her too.

Scorpius had spent lots of time thinking about it. He wondered at first if he should just ask her to be his mum, but Teddy said that Dad and Mione had to go on dates and kiss and stuff before Mione could become his mum. Scor didn't really get why, but Teddy was older, so he was probably right.

Scorpius leaned back from the baby and took a sip of his juice from the mug that Hermione had bought him when he had gone through a phase of refusing to drink his tea from anything but the mummy and baby cow mug she had at home. With luck, she'd managed to track down the same mug on eBay and had presented it to him to take home and bring to his Nana's.

He held it out, away from him, and used one hand to yank on Hermione's sleeve. When he had pulled her attention away from the baby he pointed at the cows on his mug.

"I've decided that this one is you," He pointed to the cow, "and this one's me."

Well, if that wasn't the sweetest way to compare a woman to a cow, she didn't know what was (although she wouldn't quite recommend ever comparing the two). "That's sweet of you to say, Scor, but won't your dad feel left out with just you and me on your mug."

Scorpius shrugged and looked away from her and back to the field. His dad was flying fast across the field. Scorpius didn't think he'd mind if it was Mione and him on his mug since he had bunches of pictures with Dad and his Nana and even Pansy and Blaise. He didn't have any with Mione, though, and his mug was the next closest thing, he figured.

Hermione didn't know what to say to Scorpius. He looked sort of distracted, and she couldn't make out why. He didn't seem particularly upset, though, so she thought better than to push him for information. Scorpius was very good about talking out his feelings when he was ready, she had learned, so she knew he would speak to his father, his Nana, or her if he didn't resolve the feelings himself.

She leaned down towards him and told him, "It looks like Victoire and Teddy are ready to play again."

Scorpius looked over to his friends and immediately perked back up, thoughts of a mum set aside. He set his mug down on the spot he had just been sitting and ran the little distance to his friends. The three of them hunkered down in the small space within their seating group that remained and set forth in planning which adventures their imaginations would embark on that afternoon.

Things were peaceful for a bit. The next hour was filled with chit-chat among the adults and the children crawling back and forth underneath their legs on the bleachers. By the end of the hour, Hermione and Luna were sat back leisurely with Molly and Narcissa discussing the potential for future charity events, while the rest of the adults were invested in the game. Hermione was just about ready to set little Horatio into the bassinet his mother and conjured up when a familiar voice froze her in her seat.

"What's this then?" Ron asked, red in the face with obvious and unwarranted rage.

Everyone in their little party had tensed up again. They hadn't seen hide nor hair of Ron since he had interrupted near the beginning of the quidditch season when Hermione'd first been asked to watch Scorpius. He'd even avoided the Burrow, breaking his mother's heart despite how angry she'd been with him.

"Ronald," Hermione said, hugging little Horatio to her for confidence. "We are simply enjoying the charity match, as you can see. I must say, I'm surprised to see you here, though."

"Oh? Why's that? I'm the one who actually likes quidditch out of the two of us!"

"Yes, but you've never been one to provide charitable support, have you? Well, all the same, the organization thanks you for your contribution."

Hermione sat back down, hoping he would understand and accept the dismissal. No such luck.

Ron looked at his family and friends with disgust. Malfoy's mum sat with his mum. Malfoy's kid playing with his niece. And Hermione...

"Didn't take you long to let Malfoy knock you up then, did it?" Ron said, sneering at the baby in her arms. Molly gasped, horrified at Ron's language.

Hermione bit her tongue from retaliating with rather worse language. There were children around, she had to remember. "Well, since you never bothered to spend time with Victoire or Teddy when they were little, I guess I can't be surprised that you wouldn't recognize the developmental stages of a child. Let me lay it out for you plainly: Horatio is 1 month old, as is his sister. I have been reacquainted with Draco for 7 months, now. Barring a very quick pregnancy and early birth, I could not be the mother of this boy. I know mathematics has never been your strong suit, but they're small numbers, so you should be able to puzzle out how I am not this baby's mother."

Hermione paused then to catch her breath and watched the confusion flicker across Ron's face. _Merlin_ , was he always this dim? "If that's still not enough for you to work out," she continued, "You might notice that Luna, our previously pregnant friend, is no longer pregnant."

Ron looked at Luna and then to the little baby in the bassinet before her. Hermione set Horatio down beside Ophelia and Luna placed a silencing charm around the bassinet to keep from upsetting them. Hermione turned back to Ron and raised an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

He did.

"Doesn't change the fact you've been hanging around him enough that people have noticed. You've even been in the profit with him and his brat!"

Hermione slapped him then. She really hadn't meant to, but it was just a reflex when he insulted Scorpius. "I have let you get away with too much, Ronald. You have insulted me and cheated on me without retaliation. Well, I am telling you now, Ronald: stay away from me, and don't you let me hear you saying _anything_ about that little boy ever again."

Ron grabbed her shoulders and shook her. He knew that everyone was yelling at him, but he didn't care. "You've moped enough, Hermione. It's time to get back to how we were before."

"Ron, you're hurting me. Let go," Hermione said through gritted teeth. She could see in her periphery Victoire and Teddy watching them with fear. She started to panic. Where was Scorpius? She jerked her arms back in an attempt to free herself non-magically, but Ron didn't let go. Harry, Fred, and George were circling Ron, wands in their hands but not pointed.

"Ron, you need to leave," Harry said, disappointed and angry with Ron.

"No, Harry, Hermione and me are gonna fix this."

Hermione was still twisting around trying to see where Scorpius was when she noticed the little bolt of white-blonde hair dodging between the legs of the adults and throwing himself at Ron's legs, swinging his arms wildly and screaming for him to let go of Hermione.

And Ron did let go, surprising everyone. Well, that was until they saw him double over and clutch his, uh, other wand which Scorpius must have accidentally hit in his attack. Before Ron could regain composure, Hermione whipped Scorpius into her arms.

"Scorpius, sweetie, that was so brave, but you have to let the adults deal with mean people."

Scorpius sniffled, and Hermione realized he was crying. "You said he was hurting you, Mione, and no one was stopping him."

She sighed and held Scorpius closer to her chest. She moved towards Narcissa and Molly who quickly checked over the little boy in her arms. Assure that he hadn't hurt himself in his brave save, Molly moved to give Ron a piece of her mind, but Hermione stopped her.

"Don't Molly, it's done," she said, nodding at Ron who was being restrained by Fred, and then to the security that circled the stadium on their own brooms that were now descending in a nearby walkway. They watched silently as security petrified and then levitated his body away. Scorpius kept his eyes glued to the mean man, so he could be absolutely certain that he was gone and couldn't hurt Mione anymore."

"The Canons have called for a timeout. The recess will last 15 minutes. The balls will be recalled now and rereleased upon resuming the game," the commentator's voice announced.

There were some disappointed grumbles, and some interested murmurs as others continued to watch Hermione and Scorpius. As soon as the announcement was made, Draco shot towards the stands and hopped the barrier. Hermione walked over to meet him. Draco was frantically checking over his son – face, fingers, feet.

"Are you okay buddy? You're not hurt?"

Scorpius sniffed and lifted his chin a little. "Nuh-uh. That mean man was the one who got hurt, not me!"

Draco huffed a bit in exasperated laughter. "I bet. Next time just say, 'You should see the other guy.'" Draco's anxiety ticked up again, remembering the witch his son was protecting. He began looking her over – face fingers, fingers, feet. All intact. He let his hand rest on her neck, his thumb settled on her chin, gently turning her face for a double-check. "You alright, Hermione?"

"I'm so sorry, Draco. I haven't seen him in ages, it didn't even cross my mind that he might show up again to throw a fit."

"Are you alright?" He said, needing her to confirm she was unharmed.

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat that could only be guilt.

Scorpius furrowed his brows at Hermione. "Nuh-uh! He hurted your arms when he grabbed you. He grabbed you really hard!"

Hermoine winced. She'd forgotten about that, but now that it was brought to her attention and the adrenaline was wearing off, she felt the ache in her arms.

Draco noticed and grimaced. He wished he had his want with him to do something, but the quidditch league required all wands to be left behind in the locker room to avoid irate players from seriously hexing one another. "Mother is very good at healing charms. Direct her to wear exactly the pain is and she should be able to dull the ache and stop it from bruising."

Hermione nodded and then said again, "Really Draco, I'm so sorry-"

"Attention to the stadium! The game will resume in 5 minutes' time. Consider returning to your seats."

Draco rolled his eyes at the announcement. Generally speaking, announcements were not made for when resuming play. Attendees were expected to pay attention to the countdown posted around the stadium and concessions. That announcement was a nudge for him to get his ass back to the pitch.

"It's _not_ your fault, Hermione," he said emphatically before letting his hand drop from her face. He turned his attention to his son. "And you, sir, I will be seeing as soon as the game is over, and we'll go back to Nana's to relax before we have to get ready for the party."

Children would be welcome during the early part of the party because the three big kids of the group had wanted to feel all grown up and attend the party, and Narcissa, despite her generally stoic and no-nonsense demeanor, had a very difficult time denying a child's wishes. Molly and Arthur had agreed to watch all of the kids when they left, to give the parents a break. They were used to a busy home anyway, and they hated the feeling of an empty nest.

At his father's words, Scorpius pouted and buried his head in Hermione's hair. Although mumbled, they heard him say, "I want to stay with Mione."

"Bud, she's got to get ready, too! You don't want to bother her."

He refused to lift his head. He absolutely did want to bother her if it meant staying with her.

"Why don't he and I get ready together? You or Narcissa can drop his little suit off, and we can hang around with Ginny until the party."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded and tickled Scorpius's side in an attempt to cheer him. "That way I don't have to show up without a date, hmm?"

Scorpius lifted his head then, remembering what Teddy had said about dates. "But what about when we go to Mrs. Molly's and Mr. Art's?" He turned to his dad then. "Dad, you have to be her date then so she's not all alone!"

Despite knowing she'd be surrounded by friends regardless of a date and would in no way be alone, she stayed silent. What a little genius Scorpius was. Brilliant boy. She looked at Draco and simply raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if my son is going to abandon you halfway through the evening, I suppose it would be my duty and my honor to escort you the rest of the evening," Draco said, a little smirk on his face. He ruffled his son's hair, winked at Hermione, and then turned on his heel and headed back to the pitch where his teammates were anxiously waiting for him to return.

Hermione sighed and then looked at Scorpius. "You know, your father speaks just like he's a gentleman ripped straight from a regency novel, sometimes."

Scorpius nodded. He had no clue what that meant, but he knew that his dad had a date with Mione and that meant she would be his mum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one came out a tad longer than I intended, my b.


	16. Chapter 16

When the game ended (Canons barely snatching a win), Narcissa kissed Scorpius on the forehead and suggested Hermione take him straight home. 

“You two have had a bit of an upset, dear. I’ll let Draco know you’ve taken off, and then I’ll stop by with Scorpius’s things. Might I have your address?” 

Hermione would have normally made some objection, but Narcissa was unfortunately quite right. Scorpius was exhausted, his head lulling to Hermione’s shoulders and struggling to keep his eyes open. The other children looked fairly tired as well, both from the intense emotions they’d witnessed and the general exhaustion that came from spending so much time with friends. 

Hermione, too, was feeling a bit drained. She’d been pretty successful at putting Ron out of her mind. It wasn’t hard when he’d been avoiding his own family and their mutual best friend. He’d been so mad at all of them defending her simply babysitting Scorpius – and that was all it was at that first game! – that he’d practically boycotted the burrow and stopped speaking to Harry. He’d expected someone to come running to him, that much was obvious. Probably her. Whenever things got tense between him and Harry, she’d put aside her own feelings to fix it. 

Well, that wasn’t her problem anymore. It shouldn’t have been back then and it sure as hell wouldn’t be now. She hiked Scorpius a little higher up on her hip and tried to keep the exhaustion from her voice when she responded to Narcissa, “My place is on the floo network. I’ll open my wards to the manor when I get home. It’s just on the network as ‘Hermione G’s.’” 

Narcissa nodded. “Lovely. I’ll see you shortly,” she said, patting Scorpius once more on the cheek and then disappearing. 

Hermione quickly said her goodbyes to the rest of her friends. Molly embraced her before she left, tearful and embarrassed. 

“I am so sorry, dear,” Molly said, pulling out of the hug and dabbing at her eyes. “I know he’s been brooding lately, but I thought that was more so about him finally realizing that this wasn’t just a temporary split to you. I told him to never speak to a child that, last time! I -” Molly’s voice caught in her throat, and Hermione pulled her in for a second hug. 

“Ron is an adult, Molly. He not your responsibility anymore. You did your best by each and every one of your children.” 

Molly pulled from the hug again, using her oversized rag scarf to wipe at her face. Scorpius leaned slightly away from Hermione and extended his arm out to pat Molly’s cheek like his Nana always pat his. “Don’t cry,” he said. 

This child’s gentle touch nearly brought Molly to her knees in grief. Could she ever remember Ron being so small and gentle? Yes, she could. But then, she wondered, was it better to have that innate empathy fade away from him than it would have been if he’d never had it at all? 

“Scorpius, Sweetie, I’m sorry that my son said some mean things to you and Hermione.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Scorpius said because it was true. Scorpius’s dad had explained to him that sometimes people say sorry for things they didn’t do because they want you to know that they understand you’re upset and want you to feel better. Scorpius didn’t really understand it, though. Why did people say sorry for stuff they didn’t do? “My dad says when I do something wrong, I’m the one who has to apologize, and if he does something wrong then he has to apologize. So I think if your son does something wrong, he should apologize. It’s not your fault he chose to be a meanie.” 

Molly sniffed a bit and then gave Scorpius a big kiss on his forehead. “You are a very sweet boy, Scorpius.” 

“But you can put him in timeout until he apologizes to Mione,” Scorpius continued. “Sometimes, when I do something I shouldn’t and don’t want to apologize, my dad makes me sit at the kitchen table until I’ve thought about why it might make my dad or my Nana upset. You can do that.” 

Molly’s eyes were sad, but she kept smiling and even nodded a bit. “I’ll see if I can swing that.” 

“Okay then,” Scorpius said, leaning back against Hermione, “See you later!” 

Molly said left to say goodbye to Harry and Luna, then, and Hermione finished up her farewells quickly. Ginny was more than ready to leave, having lost 20 quid betting against the Canons. Ginny, Hermione, and Scorpius left for an apparation point that was a bit further away from the quidditch pitch but far less congested. 

When they popped to the apparation point nearest Hermione’s flat, Scorpius groaned and threw his hands over his ears. Hermione had witnessed Scorpius's trouble with apparation a few times by now, and it only got more and more upsetting to see his little face scrunch up in pain. Without waiting for Ginny to apparate in, Hermione moved to sit on a nearby bench and held the boy very still. She and Draco had learned during a recent trip to Fortescue’s that the less he moved after apparation, the quicker the pain went away. She cast a few wandless charms to ease what discomfort she could. 

By the time Ginny got to the apparation point, realized they weren’t waiting for her, and then tracked them down, Scorpius was fully recovered from the ear pain but quite clearly more worn out than ever. Ginny immediately understood what had happened and didn’t say anything just in case Scorpius’s ears were still ringing. 

Scorpius tried to stay awake on the walk to Mione’s apartment, but his eyes kept going blurry and his eyes were getting heavy. He’d wanted to show Ginny all of the drawings he’d made for Mione the last time he’d been over! He’d drawn Ginny in one, her red hair scribbled wildly and almost obscuring his rendering of her quidditch uniform and broom. 

But his eyelids kept drooping and the swaying of his body as Mione walked felt as if she was rocking him to sleep like his dad would when he was sick. He was asleep before they were even up the stairs to her flat. 

Hermione had known when he’d fallen asleep by the way his body slowly released its hold on her, making him weigh more heavily in her arms. Ginny opened the door, and Hermione walked straight to her bedroom, gently laying Scorpius in her bed. She grabbed the blanket that she kept on the end of her bed in remembrance of Crooks and tucked it tightly around Scorpius. She turned her reading lamp on then turned out the lights, ready to collapse on the couch with Ginny. 

Just as she was about to throw herself onto the couch and stay there for as long as possible, she smelled something heavenly wafting from the kitchen – coffee. Hermione distractedly looked around the living room and realized that Ginny wasn’t there. Resisting the temptation of the couch, Hermione made her way to the kitchen and slid into the less comfortable dining chair. 

“Well,” Ginny said, setting the still steeping French press on a potholder between them, “that jersey has paid itself off twice over!” 

Hermione groaned and let her head fall with a loud thump onto the kitchen table. When she spoke, her words were muffled by the wood. “Once was enough.” 

“You can’t honestly tell me you really thought Ron was just gonna live and let live. Really, Hermione, you’ve known Ron for years. You know he pouts until he thinks he’s gotten his way.” 

“I didn’t really think about Ron at all, Ginny,” Hermione shifted her head to rest her cheek on the table. “For the first time since he cheated on me, I just completely stopped thinking about him. After that first game, I was more worried about the article than anything else.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was all the following articles that set him off.” 

“Ugh, probably.” 

Hermione had canceled all her paper and non-professional magazine subscriptions after that first article and relied on her friends to pass on any pertinent news. She hadn’t wanted to have any articles lying around when Scorpius came over, and truly she’d been meaning to stop reading the useless tripe for years. Her friends had told her that several other “news” sources had begun printing pictures of her and Scorpius frequently being seen together and speculating as to the reason, greatly hinting at a relationship with Draco. The little outings the three of them did little to stunt the rumors, but Hermione had felt her anger at it all dwindle bit by bit as she spent more and more of her free time with them. As for the specific accusations, well, Hermione never asked for that information and her friends never offered it. 

Ron hadn’t been in her thoughts at all when it came to those articles. All she cared about was shielding the little boy that had managed to wriggle right into her heart in a single afternoon. After Ron had shown up and got told off by Molly, she’d let it all go. She hadn’t realized it then, but it was true. She had let go of most of her anger surrounding being cheated on after that initial outburst he’d had at that first quidditch game. 

After that anger had dissipated, all Hermione really had was a sense of disappointment in the man her childhood friend had become and the lingering fear that it was somehow her fault. She didn’t wallow in it very long, and soon enough Draco was asking for her help with Scorpius again and something was building between them. Hermione’d moved past the disappointment, and she’d made the foolish misstep of believing Ron had as well. 

Now she was angry again. Angry that Ron thought he still had a chance with her. Angry that he thought he had some right to her. Angry that the idiot had caused a bloody scene. More than anything, though, she was angry that he had the gall – the absolute nerve – to call Scorpius evil again. Although angered the first time he’d said it, she had reasoned to herself that it was words said in anger – that he couldn’t possibly have meant it. Making excuses for him yet again, it seemed. But it had been months since then. He had plenty of time to cool down and had still thrown a public tantrum in which he’d insulted both her and Scorpius and brought up a past that Draco didn’t deserve to be constantly reminded of. 

She sat up and channeled all her rage into the French press plunger, pushing through the coffee in record speed. She poured them each a cup and then got up to aggressively wrench open slam the fridge and cupboards in the pursuit of cream and sugar. 

“Alright then,” Ginny said, watching her friend stomp around her own kitchen, “You need to calm down, Mi. We’ve got a lot of daylight left, and plenty of nighttime, too. Don’t spend it being sour. Not to mention your slamming around might wake the mini Malfoy.” 

Hermione huffed and set the items she’d gathered on the table with a thud and went to work preparing her cup. Ginny was right. The charity ball was tonight and she had a sort-of date with Draco. By the time she was finished stirring her coffee, Hermione had let a good deal of the tension in her shoulders go. By the time she was halfway through her mug, she was feeling well enough to tell Ginny about her sort-of date. 

“That’s not a sort-of date!” Ginny said, practically hopping out of her chair. “That’s a date-date!” 

Hermione hmmed into her mug, pleased that Ginny thought so. She’d not wanted to get her hopes up in thinking that Draco had wanted to have her as more than a friendly sort of date. With Ginny’s words, though, she figured she could hope. She sat up a little straighter in her chair. And why shouldn’t she? She’d already decided to flirt and make her intentions known, and she’d made a poor show of it thus far. Another reason to be angry with Ron, but she shoved that down. 

“Well, if it’s a date-date, I suppose I should go for the more datey of the dresses, then.” 

Ginny took a moment to figure out what Hermione meant before squealing and leaning over the table. “You mean it?” 

Hermione nodded. 

When they had decided on the details of the ball, Ginny had dragged Hermione shopping yet again, hauling Luna and Angelina along with them. Hermione had an affinity for nice but more modest and professional garments – it was simply what she felt most comfortable in. She’d found a lovely blue number that fit the bill. It was loose but still flattering, and she knew she could reuse it for many a ministry function. Ginny, however, had other ideas and had employed the mischief-loving Angelina to help her. They had presented Hermione with their spoils and forced her into a fitting room to try them on. 

But Hermione did not need to try them all on. Her eyes were naturally drawn to a lilac-colored gown with a square-cut neckline and a low, square-cut back. What really drew her attention, though, was the full-length sleeves. When she tried on the dress, she was pleased with her reflection. The dress hugged her curves and pooled to the ground in an elegant way that she’d never managed to achieve before. The square neckline showed a tasteful bit of cleavage. She turned and then craned her neck to see the back and smiled at the little mole that was visible just above the dress. 

“The angels were having a snack when they made you,” her mother would tell her when she was little, “and, oh! A bit of chocolate must have dripped just there right before they sent you out to Daddy and me.” 

Yes, Hermione liked this dress. 

It was the sleeves that did it for her, though. She hated her arms. It seemed a stupid thing to be self-conscious about, but it was true. After being on the run for a year, Hermione and the boys had lost a lot of weight, and they got right back to work on getting it back. The boys were in auror training soon enough, and they became muscled. 

Hermione, however, had opted for a less physically demanding job, and she gained back more weight than she’d lost. She wasn’t ashamed of it. A year on the run, and she’d gained an appreciation for the simple things; a pain au chocolat with her midday coffee, a beer with a good book, and homemade baked goods several times a week. 

Food. It was so easy to take for granted when you’d never gone without. 

Generally, she quite liked how she’d filled out. It was just her arms that bothered her. Reaching for a book on a high shelf and seeing her arms jiggle or doing her semi-regular yoga practice and seeing how her arms jiggled despite how hard her muscles strained to keep her in a pose. 

She hated her arms and she hated that she hated them. She knew it was normal – that bodies move. She wasn’t some model or actress or fitness buff. Still, it irked her. It didn’t help that they reminded her of Ron’s little jabs: “Women shouldn’t get so soft until they have kids, Mione.” “You sure you wanna eat that, Herms?” “Why don’t you come with Harry and me for our physical training?” 

She should have dumped him then instead of simply chewing him out. 

But back to the dress and the sleeves and her arms. The sleeves weren’t restrictive or anything. They could still move as much as they wanted, and although they were covered, they almost seemed to be accentuated and just as elegant as the rest of the gown. 

It only took 20 seconds out of the dressing room for her friends to demand she purchase it or they would purchase it for her. The praise they were showering on her had made her decidedly uncomfortable, though, and she’d bought the blue dress as well because she was pretty sure that she’d never get the confidence up to actually wear the lilac gown. 

But she’d told Ginny she would wear it now, which meant she couldn’t back out. She felt the giddy excitement she’d had waking up that morning bubble back to the surface, and despite still being nervous about wearing the dress to an event that would, without a doubt, hold photographers that would sell her image to the tabloids, she couldn’t help but look forward to slipping back into the gown. 

As she moved to pour herself another cup of coffee, the floo sounded and the grand Narcissa Malfoy walked into her tiny flat. She stood up and moved to greet her. 

“Narcissa, hullo. Come to drop Scorp’s things? Care to have some coffee with us? Or perhaps tea?” 

“No, but thank you, dear. I’ve so many last-minute details to organize, you know.” 

“Do you need any help?” 

Narcissa shook her head, “Oh no. You’ve done so much already. Besides, young people are meant to spend their time getting ready before events. You will have plenty of time to scurry around and fix things when you are old like me.” 

“You’re hardly old, Narcissa!” 

“Oh stop, you’ll make me blush,” Narcissa said despite showing no inclination towards blushing. In fact, she looked quite pleased to have been reminded of how young she appeared. “I’ll just leave Scorpius’s things on the settee, shall I?” 

Hermione nodded and Ginny almost laughed at Narcissa calling Hermione’s beat-up sofa a settee. 

When Narcissa had disappeared back through the floo, Hermione unzipped the small garment bag that had been draped over the back of her sofa and gasped. 

“It’s so tiny!” She exclaimed, for some reason shocked to see that the suit was actually child-sized. 

Ginny walked over to take a look and gasped as well. “Scorpius can’t really be that little, can he?” 

Hermione shrugged and ran a finger over the little bow tie. She didn’t know how to express her relief at seeing the tiny suit. In the short time she’d known Scorpius, it felt like he was constantly growing. He was constantly getting new clothes to replace the ones he’d outgrown, and he was always telling her about all the new things he was learning. She half expected to walk back into her bedroom and see a Hogwarts first year fast asleep. She wanted him to slow down just a bit. 

She had grown up to fast. So had his father. She didn’t want him to grow up until he absolutely had to. She wanted that tiny suit to fit him for years and years. 

“I think I want one,” Ginny said. 

Hermione was brought out of her mind by the declaration. “One what?” 

“A baby. I want one. To put in tiny little suits- oh! And tiny little quidditch uniforms. 

“Ginny, you said you didn’t want children until you were at least 30 or injured beyond returning to quidditch.” 

“Yeah, well, if I timed it right, I could have the important parts of the pregnancy during the offseason and a stay-at-home hubby to take care of it.” 

Hermione laughed. “A baby isn’t a doll, Gin. You can’t just dress it up then hand it off. And what’s this about a hubby? Things with Dean that serious and you still won’t talk about it?” 

Ginny scoffed. “I’m not dating Dean. He’s a friend and I’ve been helping him with something.” 

“Something?” 

“Need to know basis.” 

“Well, it seems you’ve no hubby candidates, then.” 

Ginny pouted a bit. “Yes, well, it wouldn’t be so tempting if the darn outfits weren’t so cute.” 

“That’s what you have a niece for.” 

“And the Potter babies, too,” Ginny said, suddenly cheered. 

Hermione zipped the garment bag back up, hiding the tiny suit from sight. “Yes, them too.”


End file.
